Reading The Battle for Skandia Oakleaf Bearers
by Ranger Ithilwen
Summary: This will be a reading of the books. Will have Duncan, Arald, Rodney, Sir David, Crowley, Halt, Gilan, Will, Horace, Lady Pauline, Alyss, Jenny, Lady Sandra, Lady Margaret and Cassandra. Will have sporadic updates.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: My sister and I are writing these stories for fun so we will be picking and choosing different books to do. LOOKING FOR A BETA READER. PM ME OR VANADESSE SADRONIEL IF YOU WANT TO HELP. Updates will be sporadic. Thanks to my sister, Vanadesse Sadroniel for helping a lot with this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing you can recognize.**

It was late at night the day after Will and Alyss's wedding, and King Duncan was working on clearing up the last of the paperwork for the day. Suddenly, a flash of light appeared, causing Duncan to shield his eyes from the glare. As he lowered his hand, he noticed the books that had not been there before the light. There were 11 books:

The Ruins of Gorlan

The Burning Bridge

The Icebound Land

The Battle for Skandia

The Sorcerer in the North

The Siege of Macindaw

Erak's Ransom

The Kings of Clonmel

Halt's Peril

The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

The Lost Stories

Duncan opened the cover of "The Ruins of Gorlan", and marveled at the smooth feel of material used for the books. He looked at the words and wondered how the letters could be so neat. Attached to the book was a note. Duncan looked at the note. It said:

 _King Duncan_

 _As you can see, there are now 11 books in front of you. Call Battlemasters Rodney and David, Rangers Halt, Crowley, Will and Gilan, Baron Arald, Lady Sandra, Lady Margaret, Alyss, Lady Pauline, Horace, Cassandra and Jenny. Then read the books together. You can read the books out of order or skip some of them. You should still be able to understand what is going on._


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone. We're back! Hope you enjoy the chapter. Please message Vanadesse Sadroniel or myself if you would like to beta the story.**

 **Disclaimer: We don't own the Ranger's Apprentice.**

 **Chapter 1**

Duncan had written to all of the people that the letter mentioned. _Really, following the instructions on a piece of paper!_ He thought.

Currently, all of them were gathered in a room that was used for meeting with nobles. Duncan took a deep breath and stood up, deciding that the blunt approach was best approach.

"Hello everyone," he said. There was a chorus of replies. "I've asked you to come here today because one week ago, there was a bright flash of light and 11 books appeared. There was a note with them, telling me to call everyone currently in this room and read the books, now on the table. So, here we are. Who wants to read first?"

There was a stunned silence, and then Lady Pauline replied, "I will."

Duncan nodded. He was not surprised that the diplomat had chosen to break the silence. "The note said we could skip some books if we wanted to, or read them out of order, we would still be able to understand the events that are mentioned."

Will grinned. "Let's read it out of order!"

Halt rolled his eyes. "Of course you would want to," he snapped. "You always have to do things the wrong way!"

"But the note said we _could_ read it out of order! It is just inviting us to do so!"

Alyss slapped him. "Shut up, Will." He complied grumpily.

"How about book 4, The Battle for Skandia? It sounds interesting," Horace said.

"Anyone object?" That was Duncan. No one said anything. "Alright then. If you will, Pauline."

 **It was a constant tapping sound that roused Will from his deep, untroubled sleep. He had no clear idea at what point he first became aware of it. It seemed to slide unobtrusively into his sleeping mind, magnified and amplified inside his subconscious, until it crossed over into the conscious world and he realized he was awake, and wondering what it might be.**

Halt snorted. "Fancy descriptions," he muttered. Will rolled his eyes.

 **Tap-tap-tap-tap . . . It was still there, but not as loud now that he was awake and aware of other sounds in the small cabin.**

 **From the corner, behind a small curtain of sacking that gave her a modicum of privacy, he could hear Evanlyn's even breathing. Obviously, the tapping hadn't woken her.**

Duncan sighed. "Of course it wouldn't have. Cassandra always was a heavy sleeper. That is, until she started joining Halt, Will and Horace and getting into trouble left and right."

Will snickered. "Guilty as charged."

Horace laughed and threw his arm around Cassandra.

 **There was a muted crackle from the heaped coals in the fireplace at the end of the room and, as he became more fully awake, he heard them settle with a slight rustling sound.**

 **Tap-tap-tap . . .**

 **It seemed to come from nearby. He stretched and yawned, sitting upon the rough couch he'd fashioned from wood and canvas. He shook his head to clear it and, for a moment, the sound was obscured. Then it was back once more and he realized it was coming from outside the window. The oiled cloth panes were translucent – they would admit the gray light of the pre-dawn, but he couldn't see anything more than a blur through them. Will knelt on the couch and unlatched the frame, pushing it up and craning his head through the opening to study the small porch of the cabin.**

 **A gust of chill entered the room and he heard Evanlyn stir as it eddied around, causing the sacking curtain to billow inward and the embers in the fireplace to glow more fiercely, until a small tongue of yellow flame was released from them.**

 **Somewhere in the trees, a bird was greeting the first light of a new day, and the tapping sound was obscured once more.**

 **Then he had it. It was water, dripping from the end of a long icicle that depended from the porch roof**

Alyss frowned. "That shouldn't be there," she muttered.

Pauline reread the sentence then sighed. "Looks like it was just a careless mistake."

 **and falling onto an upturned bucket that had been left on the edge of the porch.** **  
** **Tap-tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap.**

 **Will frowned to himself. There was something significant in this, he knew, but his mind, still fuddled with sleep, couldn't quite grasp what it was.**

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Not an excuse. And while it isn't quite making snowmen, it's just as bad."

Will looked sheepish.

 **He stood, still stretching, and shivered slightly as he left the last warmth of his blanket and made his way to the door.** **  
** **Hoping not to wake Evanlyn, he eased the latch upward and slowly opened the door, holding it up so that the sagging leather hinges wouldn't allow the bottom edge to scrape the floor of the cabin.**

Halt nodded in approval and Will lost his sheepish expression.

 **Closing the door behind him, he stepped out onto the rough boards of the porch, feeling them strike icy cold against his bare feet. He moved to the spot where the water dripped endlessly onto the bucket, realizing as he went that other icicles hanging from the roof were also dripping water. He hadn't seen this before. He was sure they usually didn't do this.**

Halt snorted. "Obviously. It's the thaw, you idiot."

"I was sleepy!"

"Not an excuse!"

"It is too!"

"What happens if you are being attacked? Do you think they will wait for you to wake up fully before they attack?"

"…"

The others were trying to hold back their laughter.

 **He glanced out at the trees, where the first rays of the sun were beginning to filter through.**

 **In the forest, there was a slithering thump as a load of snow finally slid clear of the pine branches that had supported it for months and fell in a heap to the ground below.**

 **And it was then that Will realized the significance of the endless tap-tap-tap that had woken him.**

"Finally." Halt muttered quietly. Pauline heard and kicked him under the table without skipping a beat. Halt muttered again, "Ouch!"

 **Behind him, he heard the door creak and he turned to see Evanlyn, her hair wildly tousled, her blanket wrapped tight around her against the cold.**

 **"What is it?" she asked him. "Is something wrong?"**

 **He hesitated a second, glancing at the growing puddle of water beside the bucket.**

 **"It's the thaw," he said finally.**

"And you _finally_ realized that," Halt snapped.

Will, wisely, decided not to say anything.

 **After their meager breakfast, Will and Evanlyn sat in the early morning sun as it streamed across the porch. Neither of them had wanted to discuss the significance of Will's earlier discovery, although they had since found more signs of the thaw.**

 **Small patches of soaked brown grass were showing through the snow cover on the ground surrounding the cabin, and the sound of wet snow sliding from the trees to hit the ground was becoming increasingly common.**

 **The snow was still thick on the ground and in the trees, of course. But the signs were there that the thaw had begun and that, inexorably, it would continue.**

Rodney frowned. "What's the problem with the thaw? I mean, it is probably the worst time of the year, because of the melting snow, but I don't understand why it is so bad now."

"You'll find out soon," Will muttered, still slightly miffed at Halt's comments.

 **"I suppose we'll have to think about moving on," Will said, finally voicing the thought that had been in both their minds.**

 **"You're not strong enough yet," Evanlyn told him. It had been barely three weeks since he had thrown off the mind-numbing effects of the warmweed given to him as a yard slave in Ragnak's Lodge. Will had been weakened by inadequate food and clothing and a regimen for punishing physical work before they had made their escape. Since then, their meager diet in the cabin had been enough to sustain life, but not to restore his strength or endurance. They had lived on the cornmeal and flour that had been stored in the cabin, along with a small stock of vegetables and the stringy meat from whatever game Evanlyn and he had been able to snare.**

Lady Margaret's eyes widened. As a lady of the court, she was used to having sufficient and delicious food. "That must have been hard," she commented to nobody in particular. Rodney wrapped his arm around her slightly awkwardly, still unused to showing emotions, even in private, much less in-front of so many people. Crowley barely managed to contain his "Aww!"

 **There was little enough of that in winter, and what game they had managed to catch had been in poor condition itself, providing little in the way of nourishment.**

 **Will shrugged. "I'll manage," he said simply. "I'll have to."**

The ladies present felt sympathy for Will, who had to deal with things like that at such a young age.

 **And that, of course, was the heart of the problem. They both knew that once the snow in the high passes had melted, hunters would again begin to visit the high country where they found themselves. Already, Evanlyn had seen one such – the mysterious rider in the forest on the day when Will's senses had returned to him.**

Will frowned, he realized that Cassandra hadn't told him about this and he wondered who it had been. Cassandra shuddered at the memory of the second rider who looked much like the first.

 **Fortunately, since that day, there had been no further sign of him. But it was a warning. Others would come, and before they did, Will and Evanlyn would have to be long gone, heading down the far side of the mountain passes and across the border into Teutlandt.**

 **Evanlyn shook her head doubtfully. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she realized that Will was right. Once the thaw was well and truly under way, they would have to leave whether she felt he was strong enough to travel or not.**

Lady Margaret frowned slightly thinking again how nothing seemed to go right for Will.

 **"Anyway," she said at last, "we have a few weeks yet. The thaw's only just started, and who knows? We may even get another cold snap."** **  
** **It was possible, she thought. Perhaps not probable, but at least it was possible. Will nodded agreement.**

 **"There's always that," he said.**

 **The silence fell over them once more like a blanket. Abruptly, Evanlyn stood, dusting off her breeches. "I'll go and check the snares," she said, and when Will began to rise to accompany her, she stopped him.**

 **"You stay here," she said gently. "From now on, you're going to have to conserve your strength as much as possible."**

 **Will hesitated, then nodded. He recognized that she was right.**

 **She collected the hessian sack they used as a game bag and sling it over her shoulder. Then, with a small smile in his direction, the girl headed off into the trees.**

"Uh oh," Will felt like something was going to go wrong but he couldn't remember what.

 **Feeling useless and dispirited, Will slowly began to gather up the wooden platters they had used for their meal. All he was good for, he thought bitterly, was washing up.**

Alyss squeezed Will tighter. "You know that's not true, don't you?" she asked quietly.

Will smiled. "Now I do."

The ladies decided that they would be seeing and doing a lot of comforting during this book, if not during the others.

 **The snare line had moved farther and farther from the cabin over the past three weeks. As small animals, rabbits, squirrels and the occasional snow hare had fallen prey to the snares that Will had built, the other animals in that area had become wary. As a consequence, they had been compelled to move the snares into new locations every few days – each one a little farther away from the cabin than the one before.**

 **Evanlyn estimated that she had a good forty minutes' walking on the narrow uphill track before she would reach the first snare. Of course, if she'd been able to move straight to it, the walk would have been considerably shorter. But the track wound and wandered through the trees, more than doubling the distance she had to cover.**

Arald made a face. "This is why I hate forests."

"Not all of them are bad, you know. Just some." This was Will.

"You don't say," replied Horace, "I think the only forest that is safe is the forest in Redmont. All the others have given us trouble too many times!"

 **The signs of the thaw were all around her, now that she was aware of it. The snow no longer squeaked dryly underfoot as she walked. It was heavier, wetter and her steps sank deeply into it. The leather of her boots was already soaked from contact with the melting snow. The last time she had walked this way, she reflected, the now had simply coated her boots as a fine, dry powder. She also began to notice more activity among the wildlife in the area. Birds flitted through the trees in greater numbers than she'd previously seen, and she startled a rabbit on the track, sending it scurrying back into the protection of a snow-covered thicket of blackberries.**

 **At least, she thought, all this extra activity might increase the chances of finding some worthwhile game in the snares.**

 **Evanlyn saw the discreet sign that Will had cut into the bark of a pine and turned off the track to find the spot where she and Will had laid the first of the snares. She recalled how gratefully she had greeted his recovery from the warmweed drug. Her own survival skills were negligible and Will had provided welcome expertise in devising and setting snares to supplement their diet. It was all part of his Ranger training under Halt, he had told her.**

 **She remembered how, when he had mentioned the older Ranger's name, his eyes had misted up for a few moments and his voice had choked slightly. Not for the first time, the two young people had felt very, very far from home.**

Horace and Alyss's hands tightened around their spouses.

 **As she pushed her way through the snow-laden bushes, becoming wetter and wetter in the process, she felt a surge of pleasure. The first snare in the line held the body of a small ground-foraging bird. They had caught a few of these previously and the bird's flesh made excellent eating. About the size of a small chicken, it had carelessly poked its neck through the wire noose of the snare, then became entangled. Evanlyn smiled grimly as she thought how once she might have objected to the cruelty of the bird's death. Now, all she felt was a sense of satisfaction as she realized that they would eat well today.**

 **Amazing how an empty belly could change your perspective, she thought, removing the noose from the bird's neck and stuffing the small carcass in her makeshift game bag. She reset the snare, sprinkling a few seeds of corn on the ground beyond it, then rose to her feet, frowning in annoyance as she realized that the melting snow had left two wet patches on her knees as she'd crouched.**

 **Evanlyn sensed, rather than heard, the movement in the trees behind her and began to turn.**

The tension in the room increased.

 **Before she could move, she felt an iron grip around her throat, and as she gasped in fright, a fur-gloved hand, smelling vilely of smoke, sweat and dirt, clapped over her mouth and nose, cutting off her cry for help.**

Everyone was frozen for a few seconds.

Then Lady Sandra broke the silence. "Well, that was eventful."

 **Thanks to the 5 reviewers and to the 7 people who followed and the 7 who favourited. You guys really encouraged us!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: We own nothing, not even the reactions.**

 _Chapter 2_

After the eventful first chapter, most of the people in the room were slightly reluctant to read the next chapter.

"Who wants to read next?" Duncan asked, not sounding like he wanted anyone to answer.

Rodney raised his hand, and Pauline passed him the book.

 **THE TWO RIDERS EMERGED FROM THE TREES AND INTO A CLEAR meadow. Down here in the foothills of Teutlandt, the coming spring was more apparent than in the high mountains that reared ahead of them. The meadow grasses were already showing green and there were only isolated patches of snow, in spots that usually remained shaded for the greater part of the day.**

Will frowned. "Are those the Temujai?"

Most of the room looked confused at his words.

"The Temujai are the people who Evanlyn saw in the woods," he elaborated.

Halt rolled his eyes. "It says Teutlandt, you idiot."

"Oh, sorry."

Halt sighed, Will would probably never learn to think before he spoke.

 **A casual onlooker might have been interested to notice the horses that followed behind the two mounted men. They might even have mistaken the men, at a distance, for traders who were hoping to take advantage of the first opportunity to cross through the mountain passes into Skandia, and so benefit from the high prices that the season's first trade goods would enjoy.**

Horace frowned. "Why do traders get more money if they sell 'the season's first trade goods'?"

Halt sighed and sat back, leaving someone else to do the explaining.

Pauline glared at Halt. "You see Horace, the first traders of the season get more money because the buyers have not yet had access to the goods the traders are selling. This way, the traders can charge more for the items that would have been cheaper if they had arrived later."

"What Pauline means is that, if you have not been able to have something you enjoy very much for a season, you would be willing to pay more for that something, correct?' Gilan interjected.

Horace nodded.

"So, if you were a trader, and you knew that people would be willing to pay more for something they do not have, but want, you could charge higher prices, yes?"

"Yes."

"But if you arrive late, after the first few people have arrived, you know that you will have to charge lower prices for your goods to be sold. Then everyone would have to lower their prices."

Horace stared at Gilan, then shrugged. "If you say so." He was happy with being a knight, when all he had to do was whack whoever needed whacking. He didn't need to know this sort of thing. Leave that to the Rangers.

Gilan rolled his eyes.

 **But a closer inspection would have shown that these men were not traders. They were armed warriors. The smaller of the two, a bearded man clad in a strange grey and green dappled cloak that seemed to shift and waver as he moved, had a longbow slung over his shoulders and a quiver of arrows at his saddle bow.**

Will's eyes widened slightly. "Halt?"

"Who did you think it was?" Halt snapped.

 **His companion was a larger, younger man. He wore a simple brown cloak, but the early spring sunshine glinted off the chain mail armour at his neck and arms, and the scabbard of a long sword showed under the hem of the cloak. Completing the picture, a round buckler was slung over his back, emblazoned with a slightly crude effigy of an oakleaf.**

Duncan smiled slightly. Horace saw and flushed slightly. "It was Halt's idea," he muttered.

Halt decided to help Horace out. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do remember a certain someone going on and on about how he wasn't supposed to have an insignia until he graduated Battleschool. It was rather irritating."

Everyone else laughed, knowing how Halt would do whatever he wanted and no one could stop him. Except for Pauline.

 **Their horses were as mismatched as the men themselves. The younger man sat astride a tall bay—long-legged, with powerful haunches and shoulders, it was the epitome of a battlehorse. A second battlehorse, this one a black, trotted behind him on a lead rope. His companion's mount was considerably smaller, a shaggy barrel-chested horse, more a pony really. But it was sturdy, and had a look of endurance to it. Another horse, similar to the first, trotted behind, lightly laden with the bare essentials for camping and traveling. There was no lead rein on this horse. It followed obediently and willingly.**

"Tug!"

Halt gestured for Rodney to continue reading and ignore Will.

 **Horace craned his neck up at the tallest of the mountains towering above them. His eyes squinted slightly in the glare of the snow that still lay thickly on the mountain's upper half and now reflected the light of the sun.**

Lady Margaret winced slightly. "That must have been bright."

" **You mean to tell me we're going over that?" he asked, his eyes widening.**

Will rolled his eyes. "You think so?"

Horace looked embarrassed.

 **Halt looked sidelong at him, with the barest suggestion of a smile. Horace, however, intent on studying the massive mountain formations facing them, failed to see it.**

Will laughed. "A good thing, though. If Horace had seen Halt _smiling_ , he would probably faint." Halt and Horace glared at Will. However, the former apprentice showed no signs of being affected.

" **Not over," said the Ranger. "Through."**

 **Horace frowned thoughtfully at that. "Is there a tunnel of some kind?"**

" **A pass," Halt told him. "A narrow defile that twists and winds through the lower reaches of the mountains and brings us into Skandia itself."**

 **Horace digested that piece of information for a moment or two. Then Halt saw his shoulders rise to an intake of breath and knew that the movement presaged yet another question. He closed his eyes, remembering a time that seemed years ago when he was alone and when life was not an endless series of questions.**

Will, not knowing whether this was a compliment or not, decided not to say anything.

Halt noticed this, and inwardly thanked Will. Although he acted otherwise, he was proud of Will. Will had been trained well, and was one of the best Rangers in the Corps.

 **Then he admitted to himself that, strangely, he preferred things the way they were now.**

Will let out a whoop. "I knew it!" he yelled. "I knew you really liked me when I asked questions! Horace, you owe me half a silver!"

Halt glared at Will while Crowley started to giggle. Halt turned his withering glare to Crowley who ignored him.

Rodney decided to ignore them and continue.

 **However, he must have made some unintentional noise as he awaited the question, for he noticed that Horace had sealed his lips firmly and determinedly. Obviously, Horace had sensed the reaction and had decided that he would not bother Halt with another question. Not yet, anyway.**

Will chuckled. "Good for you! Or maybe not, if Halt really feels this way."

Halt slapped Will.

 **Which left Halt in a strange quandary. Because now that the question was unasked, he couldn't help wondering what it would have been.**

Will laughed again.

 **All of a sudden, there was a nagging sense of incompletion about the morning. He tried to ignore the feeling but it would not be pushed aside. And for once, Horace seemed to have conquered his almost irresistible need to ask the question that had occurred to him.**

"Finally!"

 **Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.**

"Ha! Halt can't bear not knowing a question when he acts like he hates it! Gilan, note that down. Next time we can use that against Halt!"

"I dare you to." Halt, as always, was totally calm.

" **What?"**

 **The question seemed to explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended. Taken by surprise, Horace's bay shied in fright and danced several paces sideways.**

Halt sighed. "And that is why Ranger horses are so much better than battlehorses. They may be small, but at least they don't spook at loud noises."

Horace scowled.

 **Horace turned an aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.**

" **What?" he asked Halt, and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.**

" **That's what I want to know," he said irritably. "What?"  
**  
Alyss sighed. "He doesn't understand what you mean, Halt."

"I know that now Alyss, I was just annoyed at Horace at that moment," replied Halt.

 **Horace peered at him. The look was all too obviously the sort of look that you give to someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt's rapidly rising temper.**

Gilan groaned. "Oh, Horace. I wish you would become a bit more sensitive to Halt."

Halt shot Gilan a glare, who grinned sunnily back.

" **What?" said Horace, now totally puzzled.**

The rest of the room also looked confused.

" **Don't keep parroting at me!" Halt fumed. "Stop repeating what I say! I asked you 'what,' so don't ask me 'what' back, understand?"**

 **Horace considered the question for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: "No."**

Most of the people in the room laughed, some banging their heads against the table in an attempt to hold back their laughter. Crowley was not one of these.

 **Halt took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes sparked with anger. But before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.**

" **What 'what' are you asking me?" he said. Then, thinking how to make his question clearer, he added, "Or to put it another way, why are you asking 'what'?"**

Gilan smirked.

 **Controlling himself with enormous restraint, and making no secret of the fact, Halt said, very precisely: "You were about to ask a question."**

 **Horace frowned. "I was?"**

"Yes, Horace, you were."

 **Halt nodded. "You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it."**

" **I see," said Horace. "And what was it about?"**

 **For just a second or two, Halt was speechless.**

"HA! Take that! Never knew the great Halt who kills bears with his bare hands would be speechless."

 **He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally found the strength to speak.**

" **That is what I was asking you," he said. "When I said 'what,' I was asking you what you were about to ask me."**

" **I wasn't about to ask you 'what,'" Horace replied, and Halt glared at him suspiciously. It occurred to him that Horace could be indulging himself in a gigantic leg pull, that he was secretly laughing at Halt. This, Halt could have told him, was not a good career move. Rangers were not people who took kindly to being laughed at. He studied the boy's open face and guileless blue eyes and decided that his suspicion was ill-founded.**

Horace smiled secretly to himself, his ploy had worked!

" **Then what, if I may use that word once more, were you about to ask me?"**

 **Horace drew breath once more, then hesitated. "I forget," he said. "What were we talking about?"**

" **Never mind," Halt muttered, and nudged Abelard into a canter for a few strides to draw ahead of his companion.**

Rodney grinned. "And Halt finally gives up."

Halt kicked him under the table.

 **Sometimes the Ranger could be confusing, and Horace thought it best to forget the whole conversation. Yet, as happens so often, the moment he stopped trying to consciously remember the thought that had prompted his question, it popped back into his mind again.**

Jenny nodded. "That happens a lot."

" **Are there many passes?" he called to Halt.**

 **The Ranger twisted in his saddle to look back at him. "What?" he asked.**

Crowley was shaking with barely supressed laughter.

 **Horace wisely chose to ignore the fact that they were heading for dangerous territory with that word again. He gestured to the mountains frowning down upon them.**

Will cocked his head. "Never knew mountains could frown."

Alyss sighed. "It's called personification, Will. That is when people give inanimate objects human like characteristics."

"I knew that!"

Pauline shook her head with a small smile and Rodney decided to continue.

" **Through the mountains. Are there many passes into Skandia through the mountains?"**

 **Halt checked Abelard's stride momentarily, allowing the bay to catch up with them, then resumed his pace.**

" **Three or four," he said.**

" **Then don't the Skandians guard them?" Horace asked. It seemed logical to him that they would.**

"Obviously."

" **Of course they do," Halt replied. "The mountains form their principal line of defense."**

" **So how did you plan for us to get past them?"**

 **The Ranger hesitated. It was a question that had been taxing his mind since they had taken the road from Chateau Montsombre. If he were by himself, he would have no trouble slipping past unseen. With Horace in company, and riding a big, spirited battlehorse, it might be a more difficult matter.**

"Oy! I'm insulted!"

 **He had a few ideas but had yet to settle on any one of them.**

" **I'll think of something," he temporized, and Horace nodded wisely, satisfied that Halt would indeed think of something. In Horace's world, that was what Rangers did best, and the best thing a warrior apprentice could do was let the Ranger get on with thinking while a warrior took care of walloping anyone who needed to be walloped along the way. He settled back in his saddle, contented with his lot in life.**

Crowley snickered. "So remarkably Horace!"

Rodney glared at him but said, "That's it for this chapter."

 **Thanks for all of the reviewers, it is nice to see that people like our story! Thanks to Vanadesse Sadroniel for helping to write this. Thanks to PFT3000 for being the beta for this story.** **RangerIthilwen**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Ranger's Apprentice. (Only the reactions).**

 **Chapter 3**

Crowley held up his hand. "I'll read next."

Rodney passed the book to the ranger.

 **ERAK STARFOLLOWER, WOLFSHIP CAPTAIN AND ONE OF THE senior war jarls of the Skandians, made his way through the low-ceilinged, wood-panelled lodge to the Great Hall.**

Halt raised an eyebrow. "How descriptive."

 **His face was marked with a frown as he went. He had plenty to do, with the spring raiding season coming on.**

Gilan sighed. "He wouldn't have so much to do if the Skandians didn't raid so much."

 **His ship needed repairs and refitting. Most of all, it needed the fine-tuning that only a few days at sea could bring.**

 **Now this summons from Ragnak boded ill for his plans.**

Duncan frowned slightly. "I wonder why."

 **Particularly since the summons had come through the medium of Borsa, the Oberjarl's hilfmann, or administrator. If Borsa were involved, it usually meant that Ragnak had some little task for Erak to look after. Or some not-so-little task, the wolfship skipper thought wryly.**

 **Breakfast was long since finished, so there were only a few servants cleaning up the Hall when he arrived. At the far end, seated at a rough pine table off to one side of Ragnak's High Seat—a massive pinewood chair that served in place of a throne for the Skandian ruler—sat Ragnak and Borsa, their heads bowed over a pile of parchment scrolls.**

Duncan sighed. "Oh, the horror of paperwork!"

 **Erak recognized those scrolls. They were the tax returns for the various towns and shires throughout Skandia.**

Will sighed. "Taxes are annoying. Although as Rangers we don't have to pay them, sometimes we even collect them!"

Halt glared at Will. "So why are taxes so annoying, if you don't have to worry about them?"

Will hesitated, then acknowledged his defeat by sighing again.

 **Ragnak was obsessed with them. As for Borsa, his life was totally dominated by them.**

Gilan rolled his eyes. "What a sad existence, I hope I never have anything to do with paperwork!"

 **He breathed, slept and dreamed the tax returns, and woe betide any local jarl who might try to short-change Ragnak or claim any deduction that wouldn't pass Borsa's fine-tooth comb inspection.**

 **Erak put two and two together and sighed quietly. The most likely conclusion that he could draw from the two facts of his summoning and the pile of tax returns on the table was that he was about to be sent off on another tax-collecting mission.**

 **Tax collecting was not something that Erak enjoyed.**

Will frowned. "But you get to collect money for free! He's a raider, he should enjoy that!"

Halt was very annoyed at Will by this point. "Precisely. He's a raider. He likes raiding people, not getting stuff for free!"

 **He was a raider and a sea wolf, a pirate and a fighter. As such, his inclination was to be more on the side of the tax evaders than the Oberjarl and his eager-fingered hilfmann.**

Will snickered. "Looks like you were wrong, Halt. Erak only doesn't like it because he's a tax evader, not because he likes to raid!"

Halt scowled.

 **Unfortunately, on those previous occasions when Erak had been sent out to collect overdue or unpaid taxes, he had been too successful for his own good. Now, whenever there was the slightest doubt about the amount of tax owing from a village or a shire, Borsa automatically thought of Erak as the solution to the problem.**

Lady Margaret looked a little sympathetic. "It must be hard, to always be thought of as a solution to a problem."

 **To make matters worse, Erak's attitude and approach to the job only added to his desirability in Borsa's and Ragnak's eyes. Bored with the task and considering it embarrassing and belittling, he made sure he spent as little time on the job as possible.**

Gilan laughed. "Never a good thing."

 **The tortuous arguments and recalculation of amounts owing after all deductions had been approved and agreed were not for him. Erak opted for a more direct course, which consisted of seizing the person under investigation, ramming a double-headed broad-axe up under his chin and threatening mayhem if all taxes, every single one of them, were not paid immediately.**

 **Erak's reputation as a fighter was well known throughout Skandia. To his annoyance, he was never asked to make good on his threat.**

Crowley frowned. "That seems a little blood-thirsty. But I suppose he _is_ a Skandian."

 **Those recalcitrants whom he visited invariably coughed up the due amount, and often a little extra that had never been in contention, without the slightest argument or hesitation.**

Duncan's eyes widened. "I can see why Ragnak likes him to collect the taxes."

 **The two men at the table looked up as he made his way through the benches toward the end of the room. The Great Hall served more than one purpose. It was where Ragnak and his close followers took their meals. It was also the site of all banquets and official gatherings in Skandia's rough and ready social calendar. And the small, open annex where Ragnak and Borsa were currently studying tax returns was also Ragnak's office. It wasn't particularly private, since any member of the inner or outer council of jarls had access to the hall at any time of day. But then, Ragnak wasn't the sort to need privacy. He ruled openly and made all his policy statements to the world at large.**

" **Ah, Erak, you're here," said Borsa, and Erak thought, not for the first time, that the hilfmann had a habit of stating the bleeding obvious.**

Will chuckled. "That's very true!"

"How would you know?" asked Horace.

Will glared at him, "I was there with him."

"Ok! Ok! Don't need to get grumpy, I was just wondering!"

" **Who is it this time?" he asked in a resigned tone. He knew there was no use trying to argue his way out of the assignment, so he might as well just get on with it. With luck, it would be one of the small towns down the coast, and at least he might have a chance to work up his crew and wolfship at the same time.**

" **Ostkrag," the Oberjarl told him, and Erak's hopes of salvaging something useful from this assignment faded to nothing. Ostkrag lay far inland, to the east. It was a small settlement on the far side of the mountain range that formed the rugged spine of Skandia and was accessible only by going over the mountains themselves or through one of the half dozen tortuous passes that wound their way through.**

 **At best, it meant an uncomfortable journey there and back by pony, a method of transport that Erak loathed.**

"I think all Skandian loathe travelling by horse or pony." This was Gilan.

 **As he thought of the mountain range that reared above Hallasholm, he had a quick memory of the two Araluen slaves he had helped to escape several months ago. He wondered what had become of them, whether they had made it to the small hunting cabin high in the mountains and whether they had survived the last months of winter. He realized abruptly that Borsa and Ragnak were both waiting for his reaction.**

" **Ostkrag?" he repeated. Ragnak nodded impatiently.**

" **Their quarterly payment is overdue. I want you to go and shake them up," the Oberjarl said. Erak noticed that Ragnak couldn't quite hide the avaricious gleam that came into his eyes whenever he talked about tax and payments. Erak couldn't help giving vent to an exasperated sigh.**

"I would agree with him there," stated Crowley, he hated paperwork.

" **They can't be overdue by more than a week or so," he temporized, but Ragnak was not to be swayed and shook his head violently.**

" **Ten days!" he snapped. "And it's not the first time! I've warned them before, haven't I, Borsa?" he said, turning to the hilfmann, who nodded.**

" **The jarl at Ostkrag is Sten Hammerhand," Borsa said, as if that were explanation enough. Erak stared blankly at him. "He should be called Sten Gluehand," he elaborated with heavy sarcasm. "The tax payments have stuck to his fingers before this, and even when they're paid in full, he always makes us wait long past the overdue date. It's time we taught him a lesson."**

 **Erak smiled with some irony at the small, sparsely muscled hilfmann. Borsa could be an extremely threatening figure, he thought—when someone else was available to carry out the threats.**

Duncan smiled. "That reminds me of someone I once knew."

" **You mean it's time I taught him a lesson?" he suggested, but Borsa didn't notice the sarcasm in his voice.**

" **Exactly!" he said, with some satisfaction. Ragnak, however, was a little more perceptive.**

There was a round of laughter around the room.

" **It's my money, after all, Erak," he said, and there was an almost petulant note in his voice.**

Will frowned slightly. "Petulant is annoying."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Then why were you so petulant when you came?"

Will hesitated, then gave a lopsided grin. "I left myself open for that one, didn't I?"

The grin Halt gave resembled a wolf's. "Yes, you did."

 **Erak met his gaze steadily. For the first time, he realized that Ragnak was growing old. The once flaming red hair was duller and turning grey. It came as a surprise to Erak. He certainly didn't feel that he was growing older, yet Ragnak didn't have too many years on him. He could notice other changes in the Oberjarl now that he had become aware of the fact. His jowls were heavier and his waistline thickening. He wondered if he was changing too.**

Crowley sighed, "All of us are growing older too."

" **It's been a severe winter," he suggested. "Perhaps the passes are still blocked. There was a lot of late snow."**

 **He moved to the large scale map of Skandia that was displayed on the wall behind Ragnak's table. He found Ostkrag and, with one forefinger, traced the way to the closest pass.**

" **The Serpent Pass," he said, almost to himself. "It's not impossible that all that late-season snow and the sudden thaw could have led to landslides in there." He turned back to Ragnak and Borsa, indicating the position on the map to them.**

" **Maybe the couriers simply can't get through yet?" he suggested. Ragnak shook his head and again Erak sensed the irritability, the irrational annoyance that seemed to grip Ragnak these days whenever his will was thwarted or his judgment questioned.**

"Is it a result of old age?" asked Horace.

"If it is, it would explain why Halt is so grumpy," replied Will.

Halt glared at both of them and they turned back to Crowley.

" **It's Sten, I know it," he said stubbornly. "If it were anyone else, I might agree with you, Erak." Erak nodded, knowing full well that the words were a lie. Ragnak rarely agreed with anyone if it meant changing his own position. "Get up there and get the money from him. If he argues, arrest him and bring him back. In fact, arrest him even if he doesn't argue. Take twenty men with you. I want him to see a real show of strength. I'm sick of being taken for a fool by these petty jarls."**

 **Erak looked up in some surprise. Arresting a jarl in his own lodge was not something to be lightly contemplated—particularly for such a petty offense as a late tax payment.**

Duncan nodded. "It is a bit disrespectful."

 **Among the Skandians, tax evasion was considered to be almost obligatory. It was a form of sport. If you were caught out, you paid up and that was the end of it.**

Gilan raised an eyebrow. "They obviously don't have Rangers there."

 **Erak could not remember anyone being submitted to the shame of arrest on that count.**

" **That might not be wise," he said quietly, and Ragnak glared up at him, his eyes searching for Erak's over the scattered accounts on the table before him.**

" **I'll decide what's wise," he grated. "I'm Oberjarl, not you."**

 **The words were offensive. Erak was a senior jarl and by long-established custom he was entitled to air his opinion, even though it might be contrary to his leader's. He bit back the angry retort that sprang to his lips. There was no point provoking Ragnak any further when he was in this mood.**

" **I know you're the Oberjarl, Ragnak," he said quietly. "But Sten is a jarl in his own right and he may well have a perfectly valid reason for this late payment. To arrest him in those circumstances would be unnecessarily provocative."**

" **I'm telling you he won't have what you call a 'valid reason,' damn it!" Ragnak's eyes were narrowed now and his face was suffused with his anger. "He's a thief and a holdout and he needs to be made an example to others!"**

Will whistled. "Someone's got a temper."

Cassandra spoke quietly. "It's because his son was killed at Thorntree."

Will's eyes widened. "Right. I forgot about that."

" **Ragnak…," Erak began, trying to reason one last time. This time it was Borsa who interrupted.**

" **Jarl Erak, you have your instructions! Now do as you are ordered!" he shouted, and Erak turned angrily to face him.**

" **I follow the Oberjarl's orders, hilfmann. Not yours."**

 **Borsa realized his mistake. He backed away a pace or two, making sure the substantial bulk of the table was between him and Erak. His eyes slid away from the other man's and there was an ugly silence. Finally, Ragnak seemed to realize that some form of back-down might be necessary— although not too much. He said, in an irritated tone: "Look, Erak, just go and get those taxes from Sten. And if he's been holding out on purpose, bring him back here for trial. All right?"**

" **And if he has a valid reason?" Erak insisted.**

 **The Oberjarl waved a hand in surrender. "If he has a valid reason, you can leave him alone. Does that suit you?"**

 **Erak nodded. "Under those conditions, all right," he agreed.**

 **He had the loophole he'd been looking for. As far as he was concerned, the fact that Ragnak was an insufferable pain in the buttocks was a more than valid reason for not paying taxes on time. Mind you, he might have to find another way of phrasing it when he returned without arresting Sten.**

Crowley snorted. "You think?"

Horace smiled, "I wonder what he was going to do."

Alyss glanced at him, "Shouldn't that be an "is"?"

Horace shook his head, "He never ended up going to see Sten because he ran into us!"

"Why are you so cheerful about that?" Will asked.

"I am not cheerful! I miss him!"

Halt raised an eyebrow, "You miss that gigantic, stubborn bear of a Skandian?" he asked sarcastically.

"Of course I do! He is very nice you know."

Pauline looked at them, "We are going to start the next chapter, so sit down and be quiet."

"Yes ma'am."

 **Sorry we are late with this chapter. Thanks to PFT3000 for being the beta for this story and to VanadesseSadroniel for helping to write it. Have a great holiday!**

 **RangerIthilwen**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! We're back! Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy chapter four! Thanks to our reviewers, followers and those who** **favourited** **our story! Thanks to VanadesseSadroniel too for helping with the chapter.**

Chapter 4

Neither Will nor Cassandra wanted to read the next chapter after looking through it so Pauline took it upon herself to start.

 **WILL CAME AWAKE WITH A JERK. HE HAD BEEN SITTING ON THE edge of the porch in the sun and he realized that he must have nodded off. Ruefully, he thought about how much of his time he spent sleeping these days.**

Halt looked at Will.

"It wasn't my fault!"

 **Evanlyn said it was only to be expected, as he was regaining his strength. He supposed she was right. But that didn't mean he had to like it.**

Gilan grinned. "So true."

 **There was also the fact that there was so little to do around the hut where they had spent their time since escaping from the Skandian stronghold. Today he had cleared away and washed their breakfast dishes, then made the beds and straightened the few pieces of furniture in the cabin. That had taken barely half an hour, so he had groomed the pony in the lean-to behind the cabin until its coat shone. The pony looked at him, and at itself, with mild surprise. He guessed nobody had ever spent so much care on its appearance in the past.**

Crowley nodded sagely. "Of course not."

Halt glared balefully at Crowley. He seemed to be in a rather bad mood.

 **After that, Will had wandered aimlessly around the cabin and the small clearing, inspecting those patches where the damp brown grass was beginning to show through the snow cover. He had idly considered making some more snares, then discarded the idea. They had more than they needed already. Feeling bored and useless, he had sat down on the porch to wait for Evanlyn's return. At some stage, he must have nodded off, affected by the warmth of the sun.**

"Not very hard to do, is it?" That was Gilan. "There's a reason we Rangers like to work in the forest, with lots of trees."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and that reason is because it offers many good hiding places."

"But it also offers lots of shade." Gilan grinned triumphantly as Crowley acknowledged defeat.

 **That warmth was long gone now, he realized. The sun had travelled fully across the clearing and the pines were throwing long shadows across the cabin. It must be mid-afternoon, he estimated.**

Lady Margaret looked impressed. She had never known how Rangers could tell the time.

 **A frown creased his forehead. Evanlyn had left well before noon to check the snares. Even allowing for the fact that they had moved the trap line farther and farther away from the cabin, she should have had time to reach the line, check the snares and return by now. She must have been gone for at least three hours—possibly more.**

"Dun dun dun!" Crowley supplied the dramatic music.

 **Unless she had already returned and, seeing him sleeping, had decided not to wake him. He stood now, his stiff joints protesting, and checked inside the cabin. There was no sign that she had returned. The game bag and her thick woollen cloak were missing. Will's frown deepened and he began to pace the small clearing, wondering what he should do. He wished he knew exactly how long she had been gone and silently berated himself for falling asleep.**

Lady Margaret patted Will softly on the shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. You were still recovering."

Will smiled at her. "Thanks."

 **Deep down in the pit of his stomach, a vague uneasiness stirred as he wondered what could have become of his companion. He reviewed the possibilities.**

 **She could have lost her way, and be wandering through the thickly growing, snow-covered pines, trying to find her way back to the cabin. Possible, but unlikely. He had blazed the paths leading to their trap line with discreet marks and Evanlyn knew where to look for them.**

 **Perhaps she had been injured? She could have fallen, or twisted an ankle. The paths were rough and steep in places and that was a definite possibility. She might be lying now, injured and unable to walk, stranded in the snow, with the afternoon drawing on toward night.**

 **The third possibility was the worst: she had encountered someone. Anyone that she ran into on this mountain was likely to be an enemy. Perhaps she had been recaptured by the Skandians. His pulse raced for a moment as he considered the thought. He knew they would show little mercy to an escaped slave. And while Erak had helped them before, he would be unlikely to do so again—even if he had the opportunity.**

Alyss grinned. "Oh, ye of little faith."

Will grinned at her. "Do you think he would have, back then?"

She pursed her lips. "Alright, maybe he wouldn't have."

Will snickered, and Alyss slapped him gently.

 **As he had been considering these possibilities, he had begun moving around the cabin, collecting his things in preparation for setting out to look for her. He had filled one of their water skins from the bucket of creek water that he brought to the cabin each day, and crammed a few pieces of cold meat into a carry sack. He laced on his thick walking boots, winding the thongs rapidly around his legs, almost up to the knee, and unhooked his sheepskin vest from the peg behind the door.**

 **On the whole, he thought, the second possibility was the most likely. The chances were that Evanlyn was injured somewhere, unable to walk. The chance that she might have been retaken by the Skandians was very slim indeed, he realized. It was still too early in the season for people to be moving around the mountain. The only reason for doing so would be to hunt game. And it was still too scarce to be worth the trouble of fighting through the thick drifts of snow that blocked the way in so many parts of the mountain. No, on the whole, it was most likely that Evanlyn was safe, but incapacitated.**

 **Which meant his next logical move would be to put a bridle and saddle on the pony and lead him along as he tracked her, so that she could ride back to the cabin once he found her. He had no doubt that he would find her. He was already a skilled tracker, although nowhere near the standard of Halt or Gilan, and tracking the girl through snow-covered territory would be a relatively simple matter.**

 **And yet…he was reluctant to take the pony with him. The little horse would make unnecessary noise and a nagging doubt told Will he should proceed with caution.**

Sir Rodney grinned. "The famous Ranger instincts at work!"

 **It was unlikely that Evanlyn had encountered strangers, but it wasn't impossible.**

Halt nodded approvingly. "Nothing is impossible, there are just many things that are improbable."

 **It might be wiser to travel unobtrusively until he found out the real state of affairs. As he came to this decision, he stripped the beds of their blankets, tying them into a roll that he slung over his shoulder. It might prove necessary to spend the night in the open and it would be better to be prepared. He picked up a flint and steel from near the fireplace and dropped it into one of his pockets.**

Halt nodded sagely, "It is good to be prepared for anything."

Will looked at him, "It's how you taught me."

"I would never have guessed!" Exclaimed Crowley. Both of them glared at him and he raised his hands in surrender, "Why are all of you so touchy today?" No one answered him.

 **Finally, he was ready to go. He stood at the door, taking one last look around the cabin to see if there was anything else he might need. The small hunting bow and a quiver of arrows leaned by the doorjamb. On an impulse, he picked them up, slinging the quiver across his back with the roll of blankets. Then another thought struck him and he crossed back to the fireplace, selecting a half burned stick from the ashes.**

 **On the outside of the door, he printed in crude letters: "Looking for you. Wait here."**

 **After all, it was possible that Evanlyn might turn up after he had left and he wanted to make sure she didn't go blundering off, trying to find him while he was trying to find her.**

Gilan smirked. "Reminds me of the time I was Halt's apprentice. It was an hour after I was supposed to be back, but I wasn't back. Halt went looking for me, and I got back maybe 10 minutes after he had left, and after seeing he wasn't anywhere close-by, I went looking for him! The next time we saw each other was at night! We were both rather upset at having spent the half the day looking for the other."

 **He took a few seconds to string the bow. Halt's voice echoed in his ears: "An unstrung bow is just something extra to carry. A strung bow is a weapon."**

"I see you remember what you were taught," Crowley smiled.

 **He looked at it disdainfully. It wasn't much of a weapon, he thought. But that and the small knife in his belt were all that he had. He moved to the edge of the clearing, picking up the clear trail of Evanlyn's footprints in the snow. They were blurred after a morning of spring sunshine, but they still showed up. Maintaining a steady trot, he moved off into the forest.**

 **He followed her trail easily as it wound up into the higher reaches of the mountain. Before too long, his pace had dropped from the steady jog and he was walking, breathing hard as he went. He realized that he was in poor condition. There had been a time when he could have maintained that ground-eating lope for hours. Now, after barely twenty minutes, he was puffing and exhausted. He shook his head in disgust and continued to follow the footprints.**

"It wasn't your fault," said Alyss gently and the others nodded, trying to comfort Will.

 **Of course, following the trail was made easier by the fact that he already had a good idea of the direction Evanlyn had been heading. He had helped her relocate the snares a few days earlier. At that time, he recalled, they had gone at an easier pace, resting frequently so as not to tire him out.**

 **Evanlyn had been reluctant to allow him to walk so far, but had given in to the inevitable. She had no real idea how to place the snares where they might have the best chance of trapping small game. That was one of Will's areas of expertise. He knew how to look for and recognize the small signs that showed where the rabbits and birds moved, where they were most likely to poke their unsuspecting heads into the looped snares.**

Baron Arald nodded. "Useful trick."

 **It had taken Evanlyn about forty minutes to reach the trap line that morning. Will covered the distance in an hour and a quarter, stopping more frequently as the time went on to rest and recover his breath. He resented the stops, knowing they were costing him daylight. But there would be no point pushing himself until he was utterly exhausted. He had to keep himself in condition to give Evanlyn any assistance she might need when he found her.**

Rodney laughed. "Well, Arald, seem the lad at about 18 outsmarted the two of us at 30!"

"Do I want to know?" Gilan asked.

"Let's just say Rodney and I forgot that little piece of advice."

 **The sun had dropped over the crest of the mountain by the time he reached the blazed tree that marked the beginning of the trap line. He touched one hand to the cut bark, then turned to head off the track into the pines when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something that froze his heart in midbeat.**

Everyone leaned forward in their seats, waiting to see what had happened to make Will afraid.

 **There was the clear imprint of a horse's hooves in the snow—and they overlay the tracks that Evanlyn had left. Someone had followed her.**

 **Forgetting his weariness, Will ran, half crouching, through the thick pines to the spot where the first snare had been laid. The snow there was disturbed and scuffed. He fell to his knees, trying to read the story that was written there.**

Arald was about to say something when he realised that this wasn't the time, with everyone anxious and captivated by the story.

 **The empty snare first: he could see where Evanlyn had reset the noose, smoothing the snow around it and scattering a few grains of seed. So there had been an animal in the snare when she'd arrived.**

 **Then he cast wider, seeing the other set of footprints moving into position behind her as she had knelt, engrossed in the task of resetting the snare and probably jubilant at the fact that they had caught something. The horse's tracks had stopped some twenty meters away. Obviously, the animal was trained to move silently—much as Ranger horses were. He felt an uneasy sense of misgiving at that. He didn't like the idea of an enemy who had those sorts of skills—and by now he knew he was dealing with an enemy of some kind. The signs of the struggle between Evanlyn and the enemy were all too clear to his trained eye. He could almost see the man—he assumed it was a man— moving quietly behind her, grabbing her and dragging her back through the snow.**

 **The wild disturbance of the ground showed how Evanlyn had kicked and struggled. Then, suddenly, the struggling had stopped and two shallow furrows in the snow led back to where the horse waited. Her heels, he realized, as her unconscious body had been dragged away.**

 **Unconscious? Or dead, he thought. And a chill hand seized his heart at the thought. Then he shook it away determinedly.**

Everyone looked worried even though they knew that Cassandra was here with them, safe and sound. Horace pulled her into a hug as if to reassure himself that she was there with him.

" **No sense in carrying her away if he'd killed her," he told himself. And he almost believed it. But he still had that gnawing uncertainty in the pit of his belly as he followed the horse's tracks back to the main trail, and then in the opposite direction of the trail that led back to the cabin.**

 **He was glad he'd thought to bring the blankets. It was going to be a cold night, he thought. He was also glad that he'd thought to bring the bow, although he found himself wishing that he still had the powerful recurve bow that he had lost at the bridge in Celtica. It was a far superior weapon to the low-powered Skandian hunting bow. And he had the uncomfortable certainty that he was going to need a weapon in the very near future.**

"And that's it," ended Pauline.

"Did it have to end in such a cliff-hanger?" Asked Horace, who wanted to make sure that Evanlyn had not been badly hurt during that time.

Will looked at him, "Have you ever met an author who doesn't like to end the chapter in a cliff-hanger?"

"Come to think of it, I haven't," said Crowley with his thinking face on.

Halt looked at him, "You haven't known any authors."

"I am sure Will meant to make it a rhetorical question," Pauline put in before it became a fight. Will nodded, not wanting to see a fight between Crowley and Halt, once was more than enough!

Arald nodded too before saying, "I will read the next chapter."

 **Sorry again for the wait. To make it up to you guys, we are going to upload another chapter on Monday and a third on Tuesday. We might not be able to update for a while after that. Thanks everyone!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! Here is the next chapter as promised! Remember, we don't own anything. Thanks to VanadesseSadroniel for looking through this chapter! Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4**

Arald took the book from Pauline and started to read which made everyone fall silent.

 **THE WORLD WAS UPSIDE DOWN AND BOUNCING. GRADUALLY, AS Evanlyn's eyes came into focus, she realized that she was hanging, head down, her face only centimetres away from the front left shoulder of a horse. The inverted position made the blood pound painfully in her head, a pounding that was accentuated by the steady, bouncing trot that the horse was maintaining. He was a chestnut, she noted, and his coat was long and shaggy and badly in need of grooming. The small area she could see was matted with sweat and dried mud.**

Just about everyone in the room looked upset at the thought of a horse in such bad condition and they weren't very happy about the thought of Cassandra being captured by the, as of now, unknown rider.

 **Something hard ground into the soft flesh of her belly with every lurching step the horse took. She tried to wriggle to relieve the pressure and was rewarded for her efforts with a sharp blow to the back of her head. She took the hint and stopped wriggling.**

Cassandra winced, remembering the uncomfortable situation she had been in. The more expressive people looked sympathetic. Lady Sandra and Lady Margaret patted Cassandra's arm comfortingly. Duncan looked angry, but Cassandra calmed him by saying, "There was no real damage done, I'm fine."

 **Turning her head to face toward the rear, she could make out her captor's left leg—clad in a long, skirt-like fur coat and soft hide boots. Below her, the churned snow of the trail passed rapidly by. She realized her unconscious body had been slung unceremoniously across the front of a saddle. That projection stabbing dully into her stomach must be the pommel.**

 **She remembered now: the slight noise behind her, the blur of movement as she started to turn. A hand, stinking of sweat and smoke and fur, clamped over her mouth to prevent her screaming. Not that there had been anyone within earshot to hear, she thought regretfully.**

Will looked angry at the knowledge that he hadn't been there to help her. Halt looked at him and said, "There wouldn't have been anything you could do, after all, you were still weak from the warm-weed." Will nodded his thanks.

 **The struggle had been brief, with her assailant dragging her backward to keep her off balance. She had tried to fight her way free, tried to kick and bite. But the man's thick glove made her attempts at biting useless, and her kicks were ineffective as she was dragged backward. Finally, there had been an instant of blinding pain, just behind her left ear, and then darkness.**

Will was torn between being glad he finally knew what happened or feeling guilty he wasn't there.

 **As she thought of the blow, she became aware that the area behind her left ear was another source of throbbing, another source of pain. The discomfort of being carried along helplessly like this was bad enough. But the inability to see anything, to get a look at the man who had taken her prisoner, was, if anything, worse. From this doubled-over, facedown position, she couldn't even see any features of the land they were passing through. So if she did eventually escape, she would have no memory of any landmarks that might help her retrace her steps.**

Halt nodded, impressed she had learned something and she knew what to do in a situation like this.

 **Unobtrusively, she tried to twist her head to the side, to get a look at the rider mounted behind her. But he obviously felt the movement, minimal as she tried to keep it, and she felt another blow on the back of her head. Just what she needed, she thought ruefully.**

 **Realizing that there was no future in antagonizing her captor, Evanlyn slumped down, trying to relax her muscles and ride as comfortably as possible. It was a fairly unsuccessful attempt. But at least when she let her head hang down, her cramping neck and shoulder muscles felt some relief.**

 **The ground went by below her: the snow churned up by the horse's front hooves, showing the sodden brown grass that lay underneath. They were making their way downhill, she realized, as the rider reined in the horse to negotiate a steeper than normal part of the trail at a walk. She felt the rider lean back away from her as she slid forward, saw his feet pushing forward against the stirrups as he leaned back to compensate and help the horse balance.**

 **Just ahead of them, visible from her facedown position, was a patch of snow that had melted and refrozen. It was slick and icy and the horse's hooves went onto it before she could sound any warning. Legs braced, the horse slid downward, unable to check its progress. She heard a startled grunt from the rider and he leaned farther back, keeping the reins taut to still the horse's panic. They slid, scrabbled, then checked. Then they were across the icy patch and the rider urged the horse back into its steady trot once more.**

Crowley said, "He's a pretty good rider, to be able to help his horse like that."

Will glared at him, "Are you complementing Cassandra's captor?"

Crowley shook his head, "I'm just saying that it is nice to know that there are some good horse riders other than us out there."

Arald asked, "Are you saying that I am a bad rider?"

His wife, Lady Sandra, tried to appease him, "Of course not, you, of course, are exempt from such comparisons." Arald nodded, appeased. Crowley sighed in relief and nodded his thanks to Sandra, everyone seemed very touchy today. He made a mental note not to antagonise anyone.

 **Evanlyn noted the moment. If it happened again, it might give her a chance to escape.**

 **After all, she wasn't tied onto the horse, she realized. She was merely hanging either side like a bundle of old clothes. If the horse fell, she could be off and away before the rider regained his feet. Or so she thought.**

 **Perhaps fortunately for her—for she couldn't see the bow slung over the rider's back, nor the quiver full of arrows that hung at his right side—the horse didn't fall. There were a few more steep sections, and a couple of other occasions when they slid, legs locked forward and rear hooves scrabbling for purchase, for several meters down the slope. But on none of those occasions did the rider lose control or the horse do more than whinny in alarm and concentration.**

Crowley muttered under his breath, forgetting his mental note, "A good horse too, not as good as ours though."

Halt leaned in suspiciously, "Did you say something?"

"No, I didn't," he replied hastily, suddenly remembering that he didn't want to antagonise anyone, especially not Halt right now.

"Good."

"Why?" asked Crowley, "Do you not like me talking?"

"Do you think I would have said that if I liked your talking?"

Pauline levelled her stern gaze on them and they both turned their attention to Arald.

 **Finally, they reached their destination. The first she knew of it was when the horse slid to a stop and she felt a hand on her collar, heaving her up and over, to send her sprawling in the wet snow that covered the ground. She fell awkwardly, winding herself in the process, and it was several seconds before she could regain her presence of mind and take the time to look around her.**

 **They were in a clearing where a small camp had been set up. Now she could see her captor as he swung down from the saddle. He was a short, stocky man, dressed in furs—a long, wide-skirted fur coat covered most of his body. On his head he wore a strange, conical fur hat. Beneath the skirts of the coat he wore shapeless trousers made from a thin kind of felt, with soft hide boots pulled up over them, about knee high.**

"Very descriptive," said Horace, "I would never have noticed all of that! And if I was captured, I would look for ways of getting out, not examining their clothes!"

"Which is why you are not a Ranger," said Halt. Horace glared at him but turned his attention back to the story.

 **He walked toward her now, rolling slightly with the bowlegged walk of a man who spent most of his time in the saddle.  
** Horace looked at the Rangers curiously, they spent most of their time in the saddle though they didn't seemed bowlegged. Halt noticed his staring and glared angrily at him, knowing what Horace was thinking but Arald continued reading, unaware of the scene going on not far away. **His features were sharp—almond-shaped eyes that slitted to almost nothing from years of looking across long distances into the wind and the glare of a hard land. His skin was dark, almost nut brown from exposure to the sun, and the cheekbones were high. The nose was short and wide, and the lips were thin. Her first impression was that it was a cruel face. Then she amended the thought. It was simply an uncaring face. The eyes showed no signs of compassion or even interest in her as the rider reached down and grabbed her collar, forcing her to her feet.**

"Who are those people?" asked Alyss.

Will looked at her, "We'll find out soon, though I am sure most people would want to remain ignorant of the fact." Horace nodded his assent.

" **Stand," he said. The voice was thick and the accent guttural, but she recognized the single word in the Skandian tongue. It was basically similar to the Araluen language and she had spent months with the Skandians in any event. She allowed herself to be raised to her feet. She was nearly as tall as the man, she noticed, with a slight feeling of surprise. But, small as he was, the strength in the arm that dragged her upright was all too obvious.**

"Never judge a book by its cover," said Horace. David looked at him, such sayings weren't usually taught in Battleschool.

Rodney leaned over to him, "It was all the time spent with the Rangers that taught him such philosophical sayings." David nodded in understanding. After all, his son was a Ranger.

 **Now she noticed the bow and the quiver, and was instinctively glad that no chance had arisen for her to try to escape. She had no doubt that the man shoving her forward was an expert shot. There was something totally capable about him, she realized. He seemed so confident, so much in control.  
** It sounded a lot like the Rangers thought Jenny, looking at them.  
 **The bow might have simply marked him as a hunter. The long, curved sword in a brassmounted scabbard on his left hip said that he was a warrior.**

 **Her study of the man was interrupted by a chorus of voices from the camp. Now that she had the time to look, she saw another five warriors, similarly dressed and armed. Their horses, small and shaggy-coated, were tethered to a rope slung between two trees, and there were three small tents placed around the clearing, made from a material that appeared to be felt.  
** "Who makes tents out of felt? It isn't very hardy," asked Horace.

Gilan replied, "Apparently these people do, it could be much stronger than the usual felt that we use though."

"True," conceded Horace.  
 **A fire crackled in a small circle of stones set in the centre of the clearing and the other men were grouped around it. They rose to their feet in surprise as she was pushed toward them.**

 **One of them stepped forward, a little apart from the others. That fact, and the commanding tone in his voice, marked him as the leader of the small group. He spoke rapidly to the man who had captured her. She couldn't understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable. He was angry.**

"You can always tell when someone is angry, even though you cannot understand the words," said Pauline, knowing this from experience even though she knew many different languages. Alyss nodded, agreeing with her mentor.

 **While he was obviously the leader of the small party, it was equally obvious that the man who had brought her here was also relatively senior. He refused to be cowed by the other man's angry words, replying in equally strident tones and gesturing toward her. The two of them stood, nose to nose, becoming louder and louder in their disagreement.**

"Have you ever noticed, that when people become angry, they seem to get louder?" asked Sandra.

"The Rangers don't," said Horace with a shudder.

"They are like a completely different species of people so we shouldn't be surprised," said Jenny, remembering the times she had spent with the Rangers. The others nodded.

 **She stole a quick glance at the other four men. They had resumed their seats around the fire now, their initial interest in the captive having subsided. They watched the argument with interest, but with no apparent concern. One of them went back to turning a few green twigs with fresh meat spitted on them over the fire. The fat and juices ran off the meat and sizzled in the coals, sending up a cloud of fragrant smoke.**

 **Evanlyn's stomach growled softly. She hadn't eaten since the meagre breakfast she had shared with Will. From the position of the sun, it must be late afternoon by now. She calculated that they had been traveling some three hours at least.**

"That is a long time to travel, especially during a very uncomfortable ride," said Duncan in concern. "Do they give you something to eat?"

"No," said Cassandra, "but Halt and Horace do when they rescued me."

"Which was a whole day later!" exclaimed Horace, no wonder she was hungry when we rescued them!

 **Finally, the argument seemed to be resolved—and in favour of her captor. The leader threw his hands in the air angrily and turned away, walking back to his place by the fire and dropping to a cross-legged position. He looked at her, then waved dismissively to the other man. Her fate, it appeared, was in his hands.**

 **The horseman took a length of rawhide rope from his saddle bow and quickly ran two loops around her neck. Then he dragged her toward a large pine at the edge of the clearing and fastened the rope to it. She had room to move, but not too far in any direction. He turned her around, shoving her roughly, and grabbed her hands, forcing them behind her back and crossing the wrists over each other. She resisted. But the result was another stinging blow across the back of her head. After that, she allowed her hands to be roughly tied behind her, with a shorter piece of rawhide. She winced and muttered a protest as the knots were drawn painfully tight. It was a mistake. Another blow across the back of her head taught her to remain silent.**

Sandra and Margaret looked horrified at the treatment that the crown princess had undergone in the adventures. They were glad that they were not the adventurous type of people or the very important people for that matter. Duncan muttered to himself, "If they weren't already dead, I would be searching mercilessly for them and made them suffer for what they put my daughter through."

 **She stood uncertainly, hands bound and tied by her neck to the tree. She was considering the best way to sit down when the problem was solved for her. The horseman kicked her feet out from under her and sent her sprawling in the snow. That, at least, brought a couple of low chuckles from the men around the fire.**

Horace looked very angry at this point and so did her father. In fact, nearly everyone looked angry but the two of them closest to her were the angriest.

 **For the next few hours she sat awkwardly, her hands gradually growing numb from the pressure of the bonds. The six men now seemed content to ignore her. They ate and drank, swigging what was obviously a strong spirit from leather bottles. The more they drank, the more boisterous they became. Yet she noticed that, even though they seemed to be drunk, their vigilance didn't relax for a second. One of them was always on guard, standing outside the glare of the small fire and moving constantly to monitor the approaches to the camp from all directions. The guard changed at regular intervals, she noticed, without any dissension or need for persuasion. All of them seemed to take an equal turn too.**

"They are a very disciplined people," said David.

"Indeed. If our soldiers were like that, we wouldn't have to fear anything," said Rodney. Duncan nodded, though he knew that it was very hard to find people who were passionate enough about their job to be that vigilant. He was glad he had the Ranger Corps which was more than passionate about their job.

 **As it grew to full night, the men began to retire into the small felt tents. They were dome shaped and barely waist high, so their occupants had to crawl into them through a low entrance. But, she thought enviously, they were probably a lot warmer than she would be, sitting out here.**

 **The fire died down and one of the men—not the one who had captured her—walked in that same bandy-legged stride toward Evanlyn and tossed a heavy blanket over her. It was rough and carried the rank smell of their horses, but she was grateful for the warmth. Even so, it was not really enough for comfort. She huddled against the tree, shrugging the blanket higher around her shoulders, and prepared for a supremely uncomfortable night.**

"Poor Cassandra," said Horace.

"I know. I didn't have a comfortable night either." said Will.

"What were you doing? We haven't heard about you since the last chapter," said Alyss.

"I was kind of regretting coming into this mess so unprepared but I definitely don't regret coming to Cassandra's help," said Will, anticipating the question.

Sandra took the book from her husband. "I will read the next chapter."

 **Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Will have the next one up tomorrow!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Here is Chapter 6! We don't own anything! Thanks again to VanadesseSadroniel.**

 **Chapter 6**

Sandra looked at the beginning of the chapter. "This is going to be a fun chapter to read!"

"Why?" asked Crowley curiously.

"Wait and see," she said with a smile.

 **HALT LEANED BACK AND SURVEYED HIS HANDIWORK WITH A satisfied sigh.**

" **There," he said. "That should do the trick."**

 **Horace looked at him doubtfully, his eyes moving from Halt's pleased expression to the official-looking document that he had just completed forging.**

"I remember this!" exclaimed Horace happily. "I wasn't very happy with Halt."

"Of course not," said Gilan, "Halt is forging again!"

" **Whose seal is that at the bottom?" he asked finally, indicating the impression of a rampant bull that was set in a large splodge of wax in the bottom right-hand corner of the parchment. Halt touched the wax gently, checking to see if it had hardened completely.**

" **Well, I suppose if it's anyone's it's mine," he admitted. "But I'm hoping that our Skandian friends will think it belongs to King Henri of Gallica."**

"How did you get one of those seals?" asked Will curiously.

"You don't need to know," said Halt grumpily, he had a good idea of what this chapter was going to be about and he didn't like it.

" **Is that what his royal seal looks like?" Horace asked, and Halt studied the symbol impressed in the wax a little more critically.**

" **Pretty much," he replied. "I think the real one may be a trifle leaner in the body, but the forger I bought it from had a pretty indistinct impression to work from."**

"He isn't worried about forging but about how close the forgery looks to the real one! Really?" asked David, "shouldn't he be more concerned about forging a royal seal?"

"He's Halt, he doesn't follow rules unless he finds them useful," said his son, trying not to have either his father or his mentor get upset with him and motioned for Sandra to continue. He had always been a mediator.

" **But…" Horace began unhappily, then stopped.**

 **Halt looked at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically. "But?" he repeated, making the word into a question.**

 **Horace merely shook his head. He knew Halt would probably laugh at his objection if he voiced it.  
** "Do you really think he would laugh at you?" asked Will incredulously.

Horace glared at him, "Of course he will, if not on the outside, at least on the inside."

Will looked thoughtful and then nodded his assent, "Of course he would, he's Halt."  
 **"Oh, never mind," he said at last. Then, realizing that the former Ranger was still waiting for him to speak, he changed the subject.**

" **I thought you said there was no ruling court in Gallica," he said. Halt shook his head.**

" **There's no effective ruling court," he told the young man. "King Henri is the hereditary king of the Gallicans, but he has no real power. He maintains a court in the southern part of the country and lets the local warlords do as they please."**

"It is not a very good country to live in if it has such an economy," said Pauline thoughtfully, "I kind of feel sorry for the people."

" **Yes. I noticed some of that," Horace said meaningfully, thinking about the encounter with the warlord Deparnieux that had delayed their progress through Gallica.**

" **So old King Henri is something of a paper tiger," Halt continued. "But he has been known to send envoys into other countries from time to time. Hence this." He gestured at the sheet of parchment that he was waving gently in the air so that the ink might dry and the wax seal might harden. The sight of the seal brought back all of Horace's misgivings.**

"And you had a lot of misgivings didn't you Horace," asked Cassandra.

"Of course! He was forging a royal seal on a forged document and I am a royal knight! I am supposed to be arresting people who do that kind of things!" Horace seemed exasperated.

Will smiled at him, "You get used to it after a while, especially if you have lived with him for five years."

"That's just it! You shouldn't be getting used to it because it's wrong!"

David leaned over to Rodney, "He is so different from the Rangers! Has Halt corrupted him yet?"

Rodney sighed, "What do you think? And it happened a while ago."

Horace sighed, "You're right Will, I have gotten used to it now though it doesn't mean that I like it."

"As long as you put up with it, it is fine with me," grumbled Halt.

" **It just doesn't seem right!" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. Halt smiled patiently at him, blowing gently on some damp patches of ink.**

" **It's as right as I can get it," he said mildly. "And I doubt that the average border guard in Skandia will see the difference—particularly if you're dressed in that fine suit of Gallican armour you took from Deparnieux."**

Will was laughing and Crowley joined him. Horace glared at the two of them, "I am much older now and now, I make fun of you."

"True, very true," muttered Will, remembering some of those times.

 **But Horace shook his head doggedly. Now that his concern was out in the open, he was determined to plow on.**

" **That's not what I meant," he said, then added, "And well you know it."**

Halt smiled at him, "Of course I knew that, I just wanted to tease you." Horace gave him a glare but dropped the matter.

 **Halt grinned easily at the young man's troubled expression. "Sometimes your sense of morality amazes me," he said gently. "You do understand that we have to get past the border guards if we're to have any chance of finding Will and the princess?"**

" **Evanlyn," Horace corrected him automatically. Halt waved the comment aside.**

" **Whoever." He knew that Horace tended to refer to Princess Cassandra, the daughter of the Araluen King, by the name she had assumed when Will and Horace had first encountered her. He continued: "You do realize that, don't you?"**

"Yes, both of them are used to her using the name Evanlyn even though Horace is now used to both, being her husband and personal guard," stated Duncan, smiling at his daughter who returned it.

 **Horace heaved a deep sigh. "Yes, I suppose so, it's just that it seems so…dishonest, somehow."**

 **Halt's eyebrows rose in a perfect arch. "Dishonest?"**

 **Horace went on, awkwardly. "Well, I was always taught that people's seals and crests were sort of…I don't know, sacrosanct. I mean…" He gestured toward the figure of the bull impressed in red wax. "That's a king's signature."**

"I never knew you knew such a long word!" said Will with amusement.

Horace ignored him saying instead, "What I said back there was true! And it was drummed in my head over and over again. I can't just get over it like that!"

"Don't worry Horace, we weren't trying to. We are just unused to knowing a person so fixated on the rules because we definitely aren't," replied Halt before muttering under his breath, "We still aren't for that matter."

 **Halt pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He's not much of a king," he replied.**

" **That's not the point. It's a principle, don't you see? It's like…" He paused, trying to think of a reasonable parallel, and finally came up with: "It's like tampering with the mail."**

 **In Araluen, the mail was a service controlled by the Crown and there were dire penalties proscribed for anyone who tried to interfere with it. Not that such penalties had ever stopped Halt in the past when he'd needed to do a little tampering in that direction.  
** "Halt!" came Horace's affronted cry. He knew that Halt usually didn't follow the rules but going so far as to tamper with the mail? That was unacceptable. Duncan watched, amused and finally figuring out that Halt had been breaking so many of his laws. He had known of many of the times that Halt had broken the laws but he hadn't paid any attention because he liked Halt and he knew it was in his best interests to leave him alone. After all, his methods brought exceptional results with such a high rate of success too. Some people would say that he should probably have Halt arrested, after all, he had insulted him and all the breaking of the laws. But he knew that if he did that, pretty much all of the Rangers would be angry, especially Crowley, Will and Gilan. So, he decided it would be best to pretend that he knew nothing about it.  
 **He decided that it wouldn't be wise to mention that to Horace right now. Obviously, the morality code taught in Castle Redmont's Battleschool was a good deal more rigid than the behaviour embraced by the Ranger Corps. Of course, the knights of the realm were entrusted with the protection of the Royal Mail, so it was logical that they should have such an attitude ingrained in them from an early part of their training.**

"That is very true, we emphasise that in our lessons," agreed Rodney, "Though should I start to stress it even more?"

" **So how would you suggest that we deal with the problem?" he asked at last. "How would you get us past the border?"**

 **Horace preferred simple solutions. "We could fight our way in," he suggested with a shrug. Halt raised his eyes to heaven at the thought.**

"Of course, he is a warrior after all, that is all most warriors think about, fighting, no offence to the warriors in this room who are not like that," said Will. "We all know that Horace prefers plain out fighting to subterfuge though he has gotten a lot better recently."

"Of course! How could I not when I spend so much time with Rangers!" said Horace, ending the argument.

" **So it's immoral to bluff our way past with an official document—" he began.**

" **A false document," Horace corrected. "With a forged seal at the bottom."**

 **Halt conceded the point. "All right—a forged document if you like. That's reprehensible.  
** "After all, it is forged and we all know that," said Crowley with a giggle. Halt glared at him.  
 **But it would be perfectly all right for us to go through the border post hacking and shooting down everyone in sight? Is that the way you see it?"**

 **Now that Halt put it that way, Horace had to admit there was an anomaly in his thinking.  
** "You said that to try and make me think your way!"

"Of course he did! He's Halt and he was starting to corrupt you, turn you into a Ranger!" said Gilan, "I used to be the same way."  
 **"I didn't say we should kill everyone in sight," he objected. "We could just fight our way through, that's all. It's more honest and above board, and I thought that's what knights were supposed to be."**

"It is, but Rangers aren't," said Crowley, "You should have learned that a long time ago!"

" **Knights may be, but Rangers aren't," Halt muttered. But he said it below his breath so that Horace couldn't hear him. He reminded himself that Horace was very young and idealistic. Knights did live by a strict code of honour and ethics and those factors were emphasized in the first few years of an apprentice knight's training. It was only later in life that they learned to temper their ideals with a little expediency.**

"Like now, I am more than used to your ideas," said Horace, "If I had been that way during that time, we wouldn't have been having that argument."

"Very true," said Will, "I kind of like this Horace better than that Horace!"

"You would."

" **Look," he said, in a conciliatory tone. "Think about it this way: if we just barged on through and headed for Hallasholm, the border guards would send word after us. The element of surprise would be totally lost and we could find ourselves in big trouble. If we decide to fight our way in, the only way to do it is by leaving nobody alive to spread the word. Understand?"**

 **Horace nodded, unhappily. He could see the logic in what Halt was saying. The Ranger continued in the same reasoning tone. "This way, nobody gets hurt. You pose as an emissary from the Gallican court, with a dispatch from King Henri. You wear Deparnieux's black armour—it's obviously Gallican in style—and you keep your nose stuck in the air and leave the talking to me, your servant. That's the sort of behavior they'd expect from a self-important Gallican noble. There's no reason for any word to be sent informing Ragnak that two outlanders have crossed the border—after all, we're supposed to be going to see him anyway."**

"When you say it like that, it sounds much better than it actually is," muttered Horace.

"That's the point. What good is it if you have an idea and don't have a way to have people follow the idea?" asked Halt with one of his wolfish grins.

" **And what's in the dispatch that I'm supposed to be taking?" Horace asked.**

 **Halt couldn't resist a grin. "Sorry, that's confidential. You don't expect me to breach the secrecy of the mail system, do you?"  
** "Very funny Halt," grumbled Horace.  
 **Horace gave him a pained look and he relented. "All right. It's a simple business matter, actually. King Henri is negotiating for the hire of three wolfships from the Skandians, that's all." Horace looked surprised.**

" **Isn't that a little unusual?" he asked, and Halt shook his head. "Not a bit. Skandians are mercenaries. They're always hiring out to one side or another. We're just pretending that Henri wants to subcontract a few ships and crews for a raiding expedition against the Arridi."**

" **The Arridi?" Horace said, frowning uncertainly.**

 **Halt shook his head in mock despair. "You know, it might be more useful if Rodney spent less time teaching you people ethics and a little more time on geography.  
** "Hey! They are knights, they don't need to know so much about geography but they need to know how to manage themselves and obey the rules that they are supposed to be enforcing. Right?" asked Rodney.  
 **The Arridi are the desert people to the south." He paused and saw that this made no impression on the young man. Horace continued to look at him with a blank expression.  
** "I really didn't know who you were talking about! I wasn't taught geography!"

"Exactly," stated Halt, "I was making a point."  
 **"On the other side of the Constant Sea?" he added, and now Horace showed signs of recognition.**

" **Oh, them," he said dismissively.**

Alyss looked shocked, "You really didn't think that they would do anything did you?"

"I didn't really know, I wasn't taught that much about them."

" **Yes, them," Halt replied, mimicking the tone. "But I wouldn't expect you to think about them too much. There are only millions of them."**

" **But they never bother us, do they?" Horace said comfortably. Halt gave a short laugh.**

" **Not so far," he agreed. "And just pray they don't decide to."**

 **Horace could sense that Halt was on the verge of delivering a lecture on international strategy and diplomacy.**

"Those are his favourite things to do, especially to his apprentices," said Will and Gilan nodded in agreement.

 **That sort of thing usually left Horace's head spinning after the first few minutes, while he tried to keep up with who was aligned with whom and who was conspiring against their neighbours and what they hoped to gain from it.**

"I think that is everyone's reaction, we aren't the type of people to want to know all about the strategy and diplomacy. I mean some knowledge is good but too much is too much," said Gilan, everyone around him nodding in agreement.

 **He preferred Sir Rodney's type of lecture: right, wrong, black, white, out swords, hack and bash. He thought it might be expedient to head off Halt's incipient harangue. The best way to do that, he had learned from past experience, was to agree with him.**

"Good old Horace! You really learned didn't you!" laughed Cassandra.

"Of course I did, I didn't want to go through all of that over and over again if there was a way to stop it!" complained Horace.

Halt was glaring at them, "So should I be giving you a lecture now?"

"No!"

"Please don't!"

"I don't know if we would survive!" Came three panicked answers.

Halt smiled dangerously at them, "I don't know if you understood…"

"Yes, we did! Sorry Halt!" Crowley, as usual, was laughing at them with Halt glaring at him to try and get him to shut up but of course, Crowley paid no attention to his best friend.

" **Well, I suppose you're right about the forgery," he admitted. "After all, it's only the Gallican's seal we're forging, isn't it? It's not as if you're forging a document from King Duncan. Even you wouldn't go as far as that, would you?"**

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, after all, you know Halt, and he is prepared for just about everything. And he doesn't follow a lot of the rules."

" **Of course not," Halt replied smoothly. He began to pack away his pens and ink and his other forger's tools. He was glad he'd laid hands on the forged Gallican seal in his pack so easily. It was as well that he hadn't had to tip them all out and risk Horace's seeing the near-perfect copy of King Duncan's seal that he carried, among others.**

"I knew it! At least I am glad I didn't know it at that time, I would not have liked it at all!" exclaimed Horace.

"Exactly why I didn't show it to you," said Halt.

" **Now may I suggest that you climb into your elegant tin suit and we'll go and sweet-talk the Skandian border guards."**

"Sweet talk all right, too bad you didn't get to talk with them. I would have loved to watch that!" laughed Will.

 **Horace snorted indignantly and turned away. But another thought had occurred to Halt— something that had been on his mind for some time.**

"What has been bothering Halt so much?" asked Crowley curiously.

" **Horace…" he began, and Horace turned back. The Ranger's voice had lost its former light tone and he sensed that Halt was about to say something important.**

" **Yes, Halt?"**

" **When we find Will, don't tell him about the…unpleasantry between me and the King, all right?"**

"Yes, that would not be something to talk about lightly."

"I'm sorry about that Halt," apologised Duncan.

"It's fine, I was the one who wanted to get banished in the first place."

"If I had let you go, you wouldn't have had to get yourself banished."

"True, but it's too late now. I don't regret it," said Halt and Duncan allowed himself a smile.

 **Months ago, denied permission to leave Araluen in search of Will, Halt had devised a desperate plan. He had publicly insulted the King and, as a result, was banished for a period of one year. The subterfuge had caused Halt a great deal of mental anguish in the past months. As a banished person, he was automatically expelled from the Ranger Corps. The loss of his silver oakleaf was possibly the worst punishment of all, yet he bore it willingly for the sake of his missing apprentice.**

"Halt really cares for Will doesn't he?" asked Margaret quietly.

Rodney nodded, "He is like a son to Halt."

" **Whatever you say, Halt," Horace agreed. But Halt seemed to think, for once, that further explanation was necessary.**

"For once! Halt is explaining himself!" said Crowley, pretending to faint in awe. Halt dug his elbow into his friend's side and gave him a withering glare, only to be ignored by Crowley.

" **It's just that I'd prefer to find my own way to tell him—and the right time. All right?"**

 **Horace shrugged. "Whatever you say," he repeated. "Now let's go and talk to these Skandians."**

 **But there was to be no talking. The two riders, trailed by their small string of horses, rode through the pass that zigzagged between the high mountains until the border post finally came into sight. Halt expected to be hailed from the small wooden stockade and tower at any moment, as the guards demanded that they dismount and approach on foot. That would have been normal procedure. But there was no sign of life in the small fortified outpost as they drew nearer.**

"That is strange, there is usually a lot of people at a border post," said Duncan confused.

" **Gate's open," Halt muttered as they came closer and could make out more detail.**

" **How many men usually garrison a place like this?" Horace asked. The Ranger shrugged.**

" **Half a dozen. A dozen maybe."**

"And that is only if it is a very important place or they think that there might be trouble," said David, deep in thought.

" **There don't seem to be any of them around," Horace observed, and Halt glanced sideways at him.**

" **I'd noticed that part myself," he replied, then added, "What's that?"**

 **There was an indistinct shape apparent now in the shadows just inside the open gate. Acting on the same instinct, they both urged their horses into a canter and closed the distance between them and the fort. Halt already felt certain what the shape was.**

Everyone in the room leaned in too see what was going to happen, feeling uneasy with the knowledge that something bad was going to happen in the next sentence.

 **It was a dead Skandian, lying in a pool of blood that had soaked into the snow.**

 **Inside there were ten others, all of them killed the same way, with multiple wounds to their torsos and limbs. The two travellers dismounted carefully and moved among the bodies, studying the awful scene.**

"That is horrible!" exclaimed Sandra, "Why would someone want to kill them so brutally?"

Arald put his arm around his wife, "It is the risk you take when you become a warrior."

" **Who could have done this?" said Horace in a horrified voice. "They've been stabbed over and over again."**

" **Not stabbed," Halt told him. "Shot. These are arrow wounds.**

"Arrow wounds look a lot like dagger wounds so don't blame me for mistaking them," said Horace.

"It is a beginner's mistake, especially since you don't use a bow. If you did use a bow, I would be angry that you didn't know your weapon," Halt replied.

 **And then the killers collected their arrows from the bodies. Except for this one." He held up the broken half of an arrow that had been lying concealed under one of the bodies. The Skandian had probably broken it off in an attempt to remove it from the wound. The other half was still buried deeply in his thigh. Halt studied the fletching style and the identification marks painted at the nock end of the arrow. Archers usually identified their own shafts in such ways.**

"Like us, Halt uses black shafted arrows and I use grey. It's how we tell them apart," said Will.

"So whose arrows were these?" asked David curiously.

" **Can you tell who did this?" Horace asked quietly, and Halt looked up to meet his gaze. Horace saw an expression of deep concern in the Ranger's eyes.**

"That is never a good sign," muttered Gilan, some of the others nodding with him.

 **That fact alone, more than the carnage around them, sent a wave of uneasiness through him. He knew it took a lot to worry Halt.**

"Yes, because he has been through so much and knows so much," said Gilan.

"I'm glad you think so highly of me," Halt said with a small smile.

" **I think so," said the Ranger. "And I don't like it. It looks like the Temujai are on the move again."**

"That is never good," said Duncan worriedly.

"Who are the Temujai?" asked Margaret.

"They are the riders from the Steppes. Some of the most disciplined warriors in the known world. Not people you want to go against," said Rodney, remembering learning about them.

"Well, let's see what is going to happen in the next chapter. I will read," said Duncan.

 **Hey everyone, this might be the last chapter we will post for a while. We aren't going to abandon this story. We enjoy it too much! Thank you again!**

Reply to Guest: We are planning on working on the seventh book after this one but we will consider doing one for book three. It just happens to be our least favourite book!


	8. Chapter 7

**Hi guys! Sorry this is so late. We have been busy this term with tests and projects. We have been writing more chapters so hopefully we will upload more soon.**

 **Chapter 7**

Duncan started reading when everyone had quieted down.

 **THE TRACKS LED TO THE EAST. AT LEAST, THAT WAS THE general direction Will had discerned from them.**

"He should be right, after all, I taught him," said Halt.

 **As the unknown horseman had made his way down the mountain, the track wound and twisted on itself, of necessity, as he followed the narrow, circuitous trails through the thick pine. But always, whenever there was a fork in the trail, the horseman chose the one that would eventually take him eastward once more.**

"No wonder you thought he went eastward," mumbled Crowley, "Any fool who knew his directions would know that." Pauline smacked him over the head and he fell quiet.

 **Exhausted before the first hour was out, Will kept doggedly on, stumbling in the snow from time to time and, on occasions too numerous to count, falling full length to lie groaning.**

Will looked down. However, Alyss leaned over to him and said, "It wasn't your fault, you'd just come out of an addiction." Will smiled gratefully to her.

 **It would be so easy, he thought, to just stay here. To let the aches in his unfit muscles slowly ease, to let the pounding of the pulse in his temples calm down and to just…rest.**

 **But each time the temptation seized him, he thought of Evanlyn: how she had hauled him up the mountain. How she had helped him escape from the stockade where the yard slaves waited for their eventual death. How she had nursed him and cured him of the mind-numbing addiction to warmweed. And as he thought of her and what she'd done for him, somehow, each time, he found a tiny, hidden reservoir of strength and purpose. And somehow he dragged himself to his feet again and staggered on in pursuit of the tracks in the snow.**

Halt nodded in approval at his former apprentice's determination, as well as Evanlyn's courage and care.

 **Will kept dragging one foot after another, his eyes cast down to the tracks. He saw nothing else, noticed nothing else. Just the impressions of the hooves in the snow.**

 **The sun dropped behind the mountain and the instant chill that accompanied its disappearance ate through his clothes, damp with the sweat of his exertions, and gnawed deep into his flesh. Dully, he reflected that he was lucky he had thought to bring the blankets with him. When he finally stopped for the night, the damp clothes would become a potential death trap. Without the warmth and dryness of the blankets to cocoon him, he could freeze to death in his damp clothes.**

Sandra looked worried.

 **The shadows deepened and he knew nightfall wasn't far away. Still he kept on, keeping going as long as he could distinguish the scuffed hoofmarks in the trail. He was too exhausted to notice the variations in the tracks—the deep troughs dug by the horse's locked-up front legs as it had slid down the steeper sections of the path.**

Halt frowned slightly, but then realized that at least Will had continued on.

 **Those areas were only remarkable to him for the fact that he fell down them himself, more often than not. He could read none of the subtleties and secret messages that he had been trained to see. It was enough that there was a clear trail to follow.**

 **It was all he was capable of.**

Alyss leaned against Will, needing to feel his presence at this time. Everyone was solemn, and even Crowley had lost some of his usual cheer.

 **It was long after dark and he was beginning to lose sight of the tracks now. But he continued as long as there was no possible deviation, no fork in the trail where he might have to choose one direction over another. When he came to a place where he must choose, he told himself, he would stop and camp for the night. He would wrap himself in the blankets. Perhaps he might even risk a small, well-shielded fire where he could dry his clothes. A fire would bring warmth. And comfort.**

 **And smoke.**

 **Smoke? He could smell it, even as he thought of a fire. Pine smoke—the all-pervading smell of life in Skandia, the scented fragrance of the burning pine gum as it oozed from the wood and crackled in the flames.**

Everyone looked confused. There shouldn't be any fires in the forest. Unless… He had found the rider!

 **He stopped, swaying on his feet. He had thought of fire and, instantly, he could smell smoke. His tired mind tried to correlate the two facts, then realized there was no correlation, only coincidence. He could smell smoke because, somewhere near at hand, there was a fire burning.**

The tension in the room spiked, everyone knowing that Will was in no condition to fight, and the chances that a friendly force was in the forest were slim to none.

 **He tried to think. A fire meant a camp. And that almost certainly meant that he had caught up with Evanlyn and whoever it was who had abducted her. They were somewhere close by, stopped for the night. Now all he had to do was find them and…**

" **And what?" he asked himself in a voice thickened by fatigue. He took a long swallow from the water skin that he'd hung from his belt. He shook his head to clear it. For hours now, his entire being had been focused on one task—to catch up with the unseen horseman. Now that he had almost accomplished that, he realized he had no plan as to what to do next. One thing was certain: he wouldn't be able to rescue Evanlyn by brute force. Swaying with fatigue, almost unconscious, he barely had the strength to challenge a sparrow.**

" **What would Halt do?" he wondered.**

Halt looked surprised. He didn't know how much his apprentice looked to him for answers.

 **It had become his mantra over the past months whenever he found himself uncertain over a course of action. He would try to imagine his old mentor beside him, eyeing him quizzically, prompting him to solve the problem at hand by himself. To think it through, then to take action. The well-remembered voice seemed to sound in his ear.**

"Aw, look Halt. You've really made an impression on the boy!" Crowley seemed to have found his voice.

Halt glared at Crowley, but deigned to give a response.

 **Look first, Halt had been fond of saying. Then act.**

 **Will nodded, content that he had solved the problem for the time being.**

" **Look first," he repeated thickly. "Then act."**

The Rangers in the room nodded. They had heard those lines many times before during their scouting missions. It was drilled into their heads.

 **He gave himself a few minutes' rest, hunkered down and leaning against the rough bole of a pine, then he stood erect once more, his muscles groaning with stiffness. He continued on the track, moving now with extra caution.**

The tension in the room grew, everyone knowing that, with Will so exhausted, he could trip on something, or faint, alerting the rider and his friends of the young Rangers presence.

 **The smell of smoke grew stronger. Now it was mixed with something else and he recognized the smell of meat roasting. A few minutes later, moving carefully, he could discern an orange glow up ahead. The firelight reflected from the whiteness of the snow all around him, bouncing and magnifying in intensity. He realized that it was still some way ahead and continued along the trail. When he judged he was within fifty meters of the source of light, he moved silently off into the trees, fighting his way through the thick snow that came knee deep or higher.**

Sandra began to look extremely worried. The temperature required for that much snow, the wind, Will's state, and the wetness of the snow could easily kill him.

 **The trees began to thin out, revealing a small clearing and the camp set around the fire. He lowered himself to his belly and inched forward, staying concealed in the deep shadows under the pines. He could make out dome-shaped tents now, three of them, arranged in a semicircle around the fire. He could see no sign of movement. The smell of roasting meat must have hung in the still, clear air long after the meal had been eaten, he realized. He started to edge forward when a movement behind the tents stopped him.**

There was a sharp intake of breath.

 **He froze, absolutely still, as a man stepped forward into the fringe of the firelight. Stocky, dressed in furs, his face was hidden in the shadow cast by the fur hat he wore. But he was armed. Will could see the curved sword hanging at his waist and the slender lance that he held in his right hand, its butt planted in the snow.**

"Temuj," Gilan whispered.

 **As Will looked, he made out more detail. Horses, six of them, tethered among the trees to one side. He supposed that meant six men. He frowned, wondering how he could possibly get Evanlyn away from here, then realized that, so far, he hadn't seen her. He cast his gaze around the camp, wondering if perhaps she was inside one of the tents. Then he saw her.**

 **Huddled under a tree, a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Peering more closely, he made out the bonds that kept her fastened in place. His eyes ached and he rubbed the back of one hand across them, then pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, trying to force his eyes to stay focused. It was a losing battle. He was exhausted.**

"Will, you should have gone back to your campsite. You're in no condition to rescue her!" Rodney exclaimed, sounding rather worried, and although he knew that Will was still alive, a little tactical advice never hurt anyone. Unless the one giving the advice was an idiot.

Will grinned weakly. "That's exactly what I did."

 **He began to wriggle back into the forest, looking for a place where he could hide and rest. They weren't going anywhere this evening, he realized, and he needed to rest and recover his strength before he could accomplish anything. Tired as he was, he couldn't even begin to formulate a coherent plan.**

Rodney nodded in approval of the wisdom shown by Will. He had no doubt that many of his younger students would have tried to attack in that state and end up getting captured.

 **He would rest, finding a spot far enough away to give him concealment, but not so far that he wouldn't hear the camp stirring in the morning. Ruefully, he realized that his earlier plans for a fire were now thwarted. Still, he had the blankets; that was something.**

But not enough, everyone knew.

 **He found a hollow under the spreading branches of a massive pine and crawled into it. He hoped that the horsemen wouldn't patrol around their camp in the morning and find his tracks, then understood there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He untied the rolled-up blankets and hauled them tight around him, leaning against the bole of the massive tree.**

 **He was never sure that he didn't fall asleep before his eyes actually closed. If not, it was certainly a close-run thing.**

 **Sometime after midnight, Evanlyn woke, groaning in agony. The tight bonds were restricting blood flow and her shoulder muscles were badly cramped.**

Duncan looked furious at the treatment of his daughter.

 **The sentry, annoyed by the noise, loosened the bonds for a few minutes, then refastened her hands in front of her to take the strain off her shoulder muscles. It was a small improvement and she managed to sleep fitfully, until the sound of raised voices woke her.**

 **Evanlyn had sensed the antagonism between the two warriors the night before. But in the morning, it reached crisis point.**

"That's bad." Gilan stated.

"Understatement of the century!" Duncan snapped, full of worry for his daughter.

Evanlyn put an arm on her father's shoulder. "It's okay, Dad. I'm safe now."

 **She wasn't to know it, but this was just the latest in a series of arguments between the two men. The small scouting party was one of many that had crossed the border into Skandia. Some weeks previously, Evanlyn had actually seen a member of an earlier party, near the hut where she and Will had spent the winter.**

 **The man who had captured her, Ch'ren, was the son of a high-ranking Temujai family. It was the Temujai custom to have their young nobles serve a year as common soldiers before they were promoted to the officer class. At'lan, the commander of the scouting party, was a long-term soldier, a sergeant with years of experience. But, as a commoner, he knew he would never rise above his present rank. It galled him that the arrogant, headstrong Ch'ren would soon outrank him, just as it galled Ch'ren to take orders from a man he considered to be his social inferior. The day before, he had ridden off into the mountains on his own to spite the sergeant.**

"Well, Cass, I'm glad you never did that. Until, of course, the end of this adventure," Duncan said sternly.

Will and Horace looked slightly sheepish.

Evanlyn looked annoyed. "I've already told you, Dad. My skills with a slingshot were the only thing that kept Will and I from dying. If I don't practise, we could die the next time we get into a situation like this."

Duncan still didn't look happy, but he nodded anyway.

 **He had taken Evanlyn prisoner on a whim, without any real thought of the consequences. It would have been better had he remained unseen and allowed her to go on her way. The scouting party was under strict orders to avoid discovery and they had no orders to take prisoners. Nor was there any provision for holding or guarding them.**

 **The simplest solution, At'lan had decided, was that the girl must be killed. As long as she was alive, there was the chance that she would escape and spread the word of their presence. If that happened, At'lan knew he would pay with his own life. He felt no sympathy for the girl. Nor did he feel any antagonism. His feelings about her were neutral. She was not of the People and so barely qualified as a human being.**

Sandra and Margaret looked horrified at the thought that anyone could think that.

 **Now, he ordered Ch'ren to kill her. Ch'ren refused—not out of any regard for Evanlyn, but simply to infuriate the sergeant.**

Rodney scowled. As a commanding officer himself, it irked him when people disobeyed his orders simply because they wanted to spite him.

 **Evanlyn watched anxiously as they argued. Like the previous night, it was obvious to her that she was the reason for their disagreement. It was equally obvious, as their argument became more and more heated, that her position was becoming increasingly precarious. Finally, the older of the two drew back his hand and slapped the younger man across the face, sending him staggering a few paces. Then he turned and strode toward Evanlyn, drawing his curved sabre as he came.**

Duncan snarled slightly, his worry for his daughter overcoming his self-control. Evanlyn put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that she was alive.

 **She looked from the sword in his hand to the totally matter-of-fact expression on his face. There was no malice, no anger, no expression of hatred there. Just the determined gaze of someone who, without the slightest qualm or hesitation, was about to end her life.**

 **Evanlyn opened her mouth to scream. But the horror of the moment froze the sound in her throat and she crouched, open-mouthed, as death approached her. It was odd, she thought, that they had dragged her here, left her overnight and then decided to kill her.**

 **It seemed such a pointless way to die.**

Duncan looked furious.

Glancing nervously at his king, Gilan held out his hand. "I can read now."


	9. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Here is the next chapter! Lot about Halt's lessons in it! Hope you enjoy it!**

 **Chapter 8**

Gilan cleared his throat and started reading.

 **HALT CAST AROUND, EXAMINING THE CONFUSED MASS OF TRACKS in the soft snow, frowning to himself as he tried to make sense of the clues there. Horace waited, bursting with curiosity.**

Halt turned to Horace and raised a single eyebrow.

"What? I was younger then!" Horace looked defensive. It wasn't his fault that he was naturally curious, and at least he hadn't pestered Halt while the Ranger was busy!

Halt stared at Horace a moment longer, then said, "You haven't changed much, personality wise," and turned back to Gilan.

 **Finally, Halt stood up from where he had been kneeling, examining a particularly torn-up patch of ground.**

" **Thirty of them at least," he muttered. "Maybe more."**

" **Halt?" Horace asked2 experimentally. He didn't know if there were more details that Halt was about to reveal, but he couldn't wait any longer.**

Horace frowned. Forget about what he said earlier.

 **The Ranger was moving away from the small stockade now, though, following another set of tracks that led into the mountains beyond the pass.**

" **A small party, maybe five or six, went on into Skandia. The rest of them went back the way they'd come."**

 **He traced the directions with the tip of his longbow. He was speaking more to himself than to Horace, confirming in his own mind what the signs on the ground had told him.**

Sandra looked shocked. She had no idea that trackers could be that accurate.

" **Who are they, Halt?" Horace asked quickly, hoping to break through the Ranger's singleminded concentration. Halt moved a few paces further in the direction taken by the smaller party.**

" **Temujai," he said briefly, over his shoulder.**

 **Horace rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You already said that," he pointed out. "But who exactly are the Temujai?"**

The older members of the group shuddered.

 **Halt stopped and turned to look back at him. For a moment, Horace was sure he was about to hear another comment on the sad state of his education. Then a thoughtful look crossed the Ranger's face and he said, in a milder tone than usual, "Yes, I suppose there's no reason why you should have ever heard of them, is there?"**

 **Horace, loath to interrupt, merely shook his head.**

" **They're the Riders from the Eastern Steppes," the Ranger said. Horace frowned, not understanding.**

" **Steps?" he repeated, and Halt allowed a slight smile to show through.**

Will gasped dramatically. "What's this? Halt smiling?"

Halt glared at Will, clear warning showing through his eyes. If Will pushed him too far…

" **Not steps that you walk up and down," he told him. "Steppes—the plains and grasslands to the east. Nobody knows exactly where the Temujai originated. At one stage, they were simply a disorganized rabble of smaller tribes until Tem'gal welded them into one band and became the first Sha'shan."**

" **Sha'shan?" Horace interrupted hesitantly, totally unaware of what the word might mean. Halt nodded and went on to explain.**

" **The leader of each band was known as the Shan. When Tem'gal became the overlord, he created the title Sha'shan—the Shan of Shans, or the leader of leaders." Horace nodded slowly.**

" **But who was Tem'gal?" he asked, adding hastily, "I mean, where did he spring from?"**

Will muttered under his breath, "Horace really knows nothing."

 **This time Halt shrugged. "Nobody really knows. Legend is that he was a simple herd boy. But somehow he became leader of one tribe, then united them with another, and another. The upshot was, he turned the Temujai into a nation of warriors—probably the best light cavalry in the world. They're fearless, highly organized and absolutely pitiless when it comes to battle. They've never been defeated, to my knowledge."**

Crowley stared at Halt. "Halt, you're really smart."

Halt stared back.

" **So what are they doing here?" Horace asked, and Halt regarded him gravely, gnawing at his lower lip as he considered a possible answer.**

" **That's the question, isn't it?" he asked. "Perhaps we should follow this smaller group and see what we can find out. At least as long as they're heading in the direction we want to go."**

Pauline smiled to herself, realizing yet again how much Halt cared for his apprentice.

 **And slinging his bow over his left shoulder, he walked to where Abelard stood patiently, reins trailing loosely on the ground. Horace hurried after him, swinging up astride the black battlehorse he had been riding to impress the border guards. All at once, the finery that he had donned to play the role of a Gallican courier seemed a little incongruous. He nudged the black with his heel and set out after Halt.**

 **The other two horses followed, the battlehorse on its lead rein, and Tug trotting quietly along without any need for urging or direction.**

 **Halt leaned down from the saddle, studying the ground.**

" **Look who's back," he said, indicating a trail in the snow. Horace nudged his horse closer and peered at the ground. To him there was nothing evident, other than a confusion of hoofprints, rapidly losing definition in the soft, wet snow.**

"Horace, you'd be a hopeless tracker. Those signs were very obvious." Halt clearly either didn't know or didn't care about tact.

" **What is it?" he asked finally.**

 **Halt replied without looking up from the track. "The single rider who went off on his own has come back."**

 **Some way back, the trail had split, with one rider leaving the group and heading deeper into Skandia, while the main party had circled to the north, maintaining the same distance from the border. Now, apparently, that single rider had rejoined the group.**

"Possibly the someone who captured Cass," Duncan commented.

" **Well, that makes it easier. Now we don't have to worry about his coming up behind us while we're trailing the others," Halt said. He started Abelard forward, then stopped, his eyes slitted in concentration.**

" **That's odd," he said, and slid down from the saddle to crouch on one knee in the snow. He studied the ground closely, then peered back in the direction from which the single rider had rejoined the group. He grunted, then straightened up, dusting wet snow from his knees.**

" **What is it?" Horace asked. Halt screwed his face into a grimace. He wasn't totally sure of what he was seeing, and that bothered him. He didn't like uncertainties in situations like this.**

"None of us do," Crowley muttered.

" **The single rider didn't rejoin the group here. They went this way at least a day before he did," he eventually said. Horace shrugged. There was a logical reason for that, he thought.**

" **So he was heading after them to a rendezvous," he suggested. Halt nodded agreement.**

" **More than likely. They're obviously a reconnaissance group and he may have gone scouting by himself. The question is, who followed him when he came back?"**

 **That raised Horace's eyebrows. "Someone followed him?" he asked. Halt let go a deep breath in frustration.**

Halt rolled his eyes, remembering the annoyance he had felt at the time.

" **Can't be sure," he said briefly. "But it looks that way. The snow's melting quickly and the tracks aren't totally clear. It's easy enough to read the horse's tracks, but this new player is on foot…if he's really there," he added uncertainly.**

Alyss grinned. "Enter Will."

" **So…," Horace began. "What should we do?"**

 **Halt came to a decision. "We'll follow them," he said, mounting once more. "I won't sleep comfortably until I find out what's going on here. I don't like puzzles."**

 **The puzzle deepened an hour later when Tug, following quietly behind the two riders, suddenly threw back his head and let go a loud whinny. It was so unexpected that both Halt and Horace spun in their saddles and stared at the little horse in amazement. Tug whinnied again, a long, rising tone that had a note of anxiety in it.**

Gilan looked confused. Blaze had never done that for him, and he had no idea why Tug would suddenly decide to act out.

 **Horace's spare battlehorse jerked at its lead rope and whinnied in alarm as well. Horace was able to quell an incipient response from the black that he was riding, while Abelard, naturally, remained still.**

"Naturally."

 **Angrily, Halt made the Ranger hand signal for silence and Tug's whinny cut off in midnote. The others gradually quieted as well.**

 **But Tug continued to stand in the trail, forelegs braced wide apart, head up and nostrils flaring as he sniffed the frigid air around them. His body trembled. He was on the brink of giving vent to another of those anguished cries and only the discipline and superb training of all Ranger horses was preventing him from doing so.**

"Old Bob did a good job," Crowley commented.

"He always does," replied Halt.

" **What the devil…," Halt began, then, sliding down from the saddle, he moved quietly back to the distressed horse, patting Tug's neck gently.**

" **Hush now, boy," he murmured. "Settle now. What's the trouble with you then?"**

 **The quiet voice and the gentle hands seemed to soothe the little horse. He put his head down and rubbed his forehead against Halt's chest. The Ranger gently fondled the little horse's ears, still speaking to him in a soft croon.**

" **There you are…if only you could talk, eh? You know something. You sense something, isn't that right?"**

 **Horace watched curiously as the trembling gradually eased. But he noticed the little horse's ears were still pricked and alert. He might have been quieted, but he wasn't at ease, the apprentice realized.**

" **I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that before," he said softly, and Halt looked up at him, his eyes troubled.**

" **Neither have I," he admitted. "That's what has me worried."**

"Halt is doing a lot of worrying in this chapter," said Crowley with a grin, "Probably more than he has ever done in his life!"

Halt ignored him, wanting to know what happened next, even though he was pretty sure he knew.

 **Horace studied Tug carefully. "He seems to have calmed down a little now," he ventured, and Halt laid a hand across the horse's flank.**

" **He's still taut as a bowstring, but I think we can keep going. There's only an hour or so till dark and I want to see where our friends are camped for the night."**

"Enter dramatic music," David muttered, holding out his hand for the book.


	10. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, another chapter for you! Enjoy the rescue of Evanlyn and the reunion of Halt, Will, Horace and Evanlyn.**

 **Chapter 9**

David started reading.

 **DEEP IN THE SHELTER OF THE PINE TREE, WRAPPED IN THE inadequate warmth of the two blankets, Will spent a fitful night, dozing for short periods, then being woken by the cold and his racing thoughts.**

 _Poor Will,_ Pauline thought to herself.

 **Foremost in his mind was his sense of utter inadequacy. Faced with the need to rescue Evanlyn from her captors, he had absolutely no idea how he might accomplish the task. They were six men, well-armed and capable-looking. He was a boy, armed only with a small hunting bow and a short dagger. His arrows were good only for small game—with points made by hardening the end of the wood in a fire and then sharpening them. They were nothing like the razor-sharp broadheads that he had carried in his quiver as an apprentice Ranger. "A Ranger wears the lives of two dozen men on his belt," went the old Araluen saying.**

Crowley nodded solemnly. They did indeed, and it was a huge responsibility.

 **He racked his brain again and again throughout the long periods of sleeplessness. He thought bitterly that he was supposed to have a reputation as a thinker and a planner. He felt that he was letting Evanlyn down with his inability to come up with an idea.**

Evanlyn looked at him sadly, and covered his hand with hers. "It wasn't your fault," she said softly. Will forced an unconvincing smile.

 **And letting down others too. In his mind's eye, half asleep and dozing, he saw Halt's bearded face, smiling at him and urging him to come up with a plan. Then the smile would fade, first to a look of anger, then, finally, of disappointment.**

Halt didn't say anything, but a single look at Will told the boy that Halt was not disappointed with him.

 **He thought of Horace, his companion on the journey through Celtica to Morgarath's bridge. The heavily built warrior apprentice had always been content to let Will do the thinking for the two of them. Will sighed unhappily as he thought how misplaced that trust had become.**

"It wasn't misplaced," Horace said quietly. "You were doing the best you could."

Will grinned weakly. "That's what everyone is telling me."

"That's because it's true."

 **Perhaps it was an aftereffect of the warmweed to which he had been addicted. Perhaps the drug rotted a user's brain, making him incapable of original thought.**

 **Time and again through that unhappy night, he asked himself the question, "What would Halt do?" But the device, so useful in the past for providing an answer to his problems, was ineffectual. He heard no answering voice deep within his subconscious, bringing him counsel and advice.**

 **The truth was, of course, that given the situation and the circumstance, there was no practical action that Will could take.**

"See? It wasn't your fault," Horace said.

 **Virtually unarmed, outnumbered, on unfamiliar ground and sadly out of condition, all he could do would be to keep watching the strangers' encampment and hope for some change in the circumstances, some eventuality that might provide him with an opportunity to reach Evanlyn and get her away into the trees.**

David shook his head sadly. As a battle commander, he knew how unlikely that scenario was, especially when dealing with people as skilled and disciplined as the Temujai.

 **Finally abandoning the attempt to rest, he crawled out from under the pine tree and gathered his meagre equipment together. The position of the stars in the heavens told him that it was a little over an hour before he could expect to see the first light of dawn filtering through the treetops.**

" **At least that's one skill I've remembered," he said miserably, speaking the words aloud, as had become his custom during the night.**

Sympathy was present on every face, and Alyss hugged Will.

 **He hesitated, then came to a decision and moved off through the trees toward the campsite. There was always a chance that something might have changed. The sentry might have fallen asleep or gone off into the forest to investigate a suspicious noise, leaving the way clear to rescue Evanlyn.**

 _Wishful thinking,_ Will thought self-deprecatingly. Alyss, sensing this train of thought, quietly squeezed his hand. Will smiled at her.

 **It wasn't likely but it was possible. And if such an opportunity arose, it was essential that Will be present to take advantage of it. At least it was a definite course of action for him to follow, so he moved as quietly as possible, keeping one of the blankets draped around his shoulders as a cloak.**

 **It took him ten minutes to find his way back to the small camp. When he did, his hopes were dashed. There was still a sentry patrolling and, as Will observed, the watch had changed, with a fresh man taking over the post, wide-awake and rested. He moved around the perimeter of the camp on a regular patrol, coming within twenty meters of the spot where the boy crouched hidden behind a tree. There was no sign of slackness or inattention. The man kept his point of vision moving, continually searching the surrounding forest for any sign of unusual movement.**

The older men looked impressed. That kind of vigilance was hard to come by.

 **Will looked enviously at the recurve bow slung, ready strung, over the man's right shoulder. It was very similar to the one Halt had given him when he had first taken up his apprenticeship with the grim-faced Ranger. Vaguely, he recalled Halt had said something about learning how to make such a bow from the warriors of the Eastern Steppes. He wondered now if these men were some of those warriors.**

Halt raised an eyebrow, impressed by Will's memory under such circumstances.

 **The sentry's bow was a real weapon, he thought, unlike the virtual toy that he carried.**

Gilan nodded at the accuracy of that statement. To a Ranger, someone giving them a hunting bow and expecting them to be happy about it was the ultimate insult.

 **Now, if he had a bow like that in his hands, and a few of the arrows that showed their feathered tips in the sentry's back quiver, he might be able to accomplish something. For a while, he played with the idea of overpowering the sentry and taking his bow, but he was forced to reject the idea.**

"Good idea," Rodney muttered.

 **There was no way he would get within reach of the man without being seen or heard. And, even if he could accomplish that, there was little chance of his being able to overpower an armed warrior. Pitting the small dagger he carried against the man's saber would be suicide. He could chance a throw of the knife, of course, but it was a poorly balanced weapon and ill suited for throwing, without sufficient weight in the hilt to drive the blade home into the target.**

Halt looked slightly impressed at his then-apprentice's knowledge of throwing knives. At that point, Will had only had about a years' worth of training.

 **And so he huddled in the snow at the base of the tree, watching and waiting for an opportunity that never came. He could see Evanlyn's crumpled shape to one side of the camp. The tree she was tied to was surrounded by clear space. There was no way he could approach her without the sentry seeing him. It all seemed hopeless.**

Rodney wondered how they managed to get Evanlyn out of that situation. Then he remembered Halt and Horace, and smiled to himself.

 **He must have dozed off, lulled by the cold and by the restless night he had spent, for he was awoken by the sound of voices.**

 **It was just after dawn and the early morning light struck obliquely through the gaps in the trees, throwing long shadows across the clearing. Two of the group of warriors were standing, a little apart from the others, arguing. The words were indecipherable to Will, but the subject of their debate was obvious, as one of them kept gesturing toward Evanlyn, still tied to the tree, huddled in the blanket she had been given, and now wide-awake and watchful.**

The tension mounted a notch.

 **As the discussion progressed, the men became increasingly angrier, their voices louder. Finally, the older man seemed goaded beyond restraint. He slapped the other man, sending him staggering. He nodded once, as if satisfied, then turned toward Evanlyn, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.**

A gasp filled the room, and the readers were frozen with shock.

 **For a moment, Will remained frozen. The warrior's manner was so casual as he drew the sword and approached the girl that it seemed impossible to believe that he meant her any harm. There was a callousness about the entire scenario that seemed to belie any hostile intent. Yet it was that same callousness and casualness that created a growing sense of horror in Will. The man raised the sword above the girl. Evanlyn's mouth opened but no sound came and Will realized that killing her meant nothing, absolutely nothing at all, to the small, bowlegged warrior.**

Duncan looked disgusted and terrified at the same time. He reached out his hand to touch his daughter, desperate to have proof that she was still alive.

 **Acting under their own volition, Will's hands had drawn and nocked an arrow as the warrior dropped his hand to the sword hilt. The curved blade went up and Evanlyn crouched in the snow, one hand raised in a futile attempt to ward off the killing stroke. Will stepped out clear of the tree, bringing the bow to full draw as his mind rapidly weighed the situation.**

 **His arrow wouldn't kill. It was little more than a pointed stick, even though that point had been hardened in a fire. The chances were that, if he aimed at the warrior's body, the thick furs and leather jerkin that he wore would stop the arrow before it even broke the skin.**

David whistled. "That's a lot of layers."

 **There was only one vulnerable point where the man was unprotected and that was, coincidentally, one that gave Will's shot the best chance of stopping the sword stroke. The man's wrist was exposed as his arm went up, the bare flesh showing at the end of the thick fur sleeve. All of this Will registered in the time it took him to bring the arrow's crude fletching back to touch his cheek.**

Horace whistled. That was some serious thinking skills going on there.

 **His aim shifted smoothly to the man's wrist, the tip of the arrow rising slightly to allow for drop. He checked his breath automatically, then released.**

 **The bow gave a slight twang and the light arrow leapt away, arcing swiftly across the intervening space and burying its point into the soft flesh of the warrior's wrist.**

"That's really good aim," Margaret commented.

Rodney nodded, "That's why we have Rangers, to do all of our shooting for us!"

 **Will heard the strangled shout of pain as his hands moved in the well-remembered sequence, nocking another arrow and sending it after the first. The sword had dropped from the man's grasp, falling noiselessly into the thick snow and causing Evanlyn to shrink back as its razor-sharp blade just missed her arm. The second arrow slapped against the man's thick sleeve and hung there harmlessly as he grasped his right wrist, blood pouring down over his hand.**

Crowley hesitated a moment, then commented, "Well, at least the bow was good for something."

 **Shocked and caught unaware as he was, the man had still turned instinctively in the direction from which the arrow had come and now, seeing the movement as Will fired the second time, he made out the small figure across the clearing. With a snarl of anger, he released his injured wrist and clawed a long dagger from his belt with his left hand. For a moment, Evanlyn was forgotten as he pointed in Will's direction to his men, shouting for them to follow him, then began to run toward his attacker.**

Arald winced, wondering what would save Will this time.

 **Will's third arrow slowed the man down as it flashed past his face, causing him to jerk to one side to avoid it. But then he was coming again and two of his men were following. At the same time, Will saw a fourth man heading toward Evanlyn and his heart sank as he realized he had failed. He sent another shaft zipping toward him, knowing the effort was in vain. Turning to face the oncoming warrior, Will dropped the useless bow and reached for the knife in his own belt.**

 **And then he heard a sound from the past, a sound eerily familiar from hours spent in the forest around Castle Redmont.**

"Here comes the cavalry!" Crowley crowed, remembering an incident from his younger days, when Halt had once again come to the rescue, with cavalry.

 **A deep thrum came from somewhere behind him, then the air-splitting hiss of a heavy shaft traveling at incredible speed, with enormous force behind it. Finally, Will heard the solid smack as it struck home.**

 **The arrow, black-shafted, grey-feathered, seemed to appear in the centre of the approaching warrior's chest. He fell backward in the snow. Another thrum-hiss-smack and the second man went down as well. The third turned and ran for the horses tethered on the far side of the camp. Galloping hoofbeats told Will that the remaining two men had already made their escape, unwilling to face the uncanny accuracy of the longbow.**

The room erupted in cheering.

 **Will hesitated, his mind in a turmoil. Instinctively, he knew what had happened. Logically, he had no idea how it had come about. He turned and saw the barely visible, gay-cloaked figure some thirty meters behind him, the huge longbow still held at the ready, another arrow already drawn.**

" **Halt?" he cried, his voice breaking. He started to run toward the figure, then remembered. Evanlyn! She was still in danger. As he turned, he heard the scrape of steel on steel and saw that she had managed to grab the fallen saber and ward off the first attack.**

Duncan smiled despite the tension. "That's my girl!"

 **But it could only be a momentary respite as her hands were still tied in front of her and she was tethered firmly to the tree. He pointed toward her and yelled inarticulately, desperately urging Halt to shoot, then realized that the Ranger's view of the scene was blocked by the trees.**

 **Then another figure was bounding toward the struggling girl and her attacker. A tall, well-built figure who looked strangely familiar, wearing chain mail and a white surcoat with a strange emblem that resembled a stylized oakleaf.**

Evanlyn smiled at Horace, who blushed and looked down.

 **His long, straight sword intercepted the curved blade as it swung down. Then he had interposed himself between Evanlyn and the man who was trying to kill her and, in a series of flashing sword strokes that bewildered the eye, he drove the other man back away from the girl. He obviously had the better of the exchange and his opponent retreated before him, his parries and strokes growing more desperate as he realized that he was totally outmatched. The man lunged clumsily with his curved blade and it was deflected easily so that his momentum carried him forward, off balance, wide open to the retaliatory backhanded cut that was already on its way—**

" **Don't kill him!" Halt shouted, just in time, and Horace twisted his wrist so that the flat of his blade, not the razor edge, slammed into the side of the man's head. The man's eyes rolled up and he sagged to the ground, unconscious.**

 **And very lucky.**

Rodney looked impressed, even though he already had a good idea of Horace's skills.

" **We want a prisoner," the Ranger finished mildly. Then he was driven back by the impact of a small body running headlong into him, and a pair of arms that wrapped around his waist, and Will was sobbing and babbling mindlessly as he embraced his teacher and mentor and friend. Halt patted his shoulder gently, and was surprised to find a single tear sliding down his own cheek.**

Everyone was wise enough not to comment on that.

 **Horace sliced through Evanlyn's bonds with the edge of his sword and gently assisted her to her feet.**

" **Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, then, satisfied that she was, he couldn't help a huge grin of relief breaking out across his face.**

" **Oh, Horace, thank God you're here!" the girl sobbed, and throwing her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his chest. For a moment, Horace was nonplussed. He went to embrace her in return, realized he was still holding his sword, and hesitated awkwardly. Then, coming to a decision, he planted it firmly, point first in the ground, and put his arms around her, feeling the softness of her and smelling the fragrance of her hair and skin.**

 **His grin grew wider, which he wouldn't have thought was possible. He decided there were definite advantages to being a hero.**

A chorus of wolf-whistles broke out from the group, and Horace turned even redder. Gilan laughed, then retrieved the book from his father.

 **Lots of Will angst in this chapter!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter. Enjoy the history lesson from Halt!**

 **Chapter 10**

Gilan cleared his throat dramatically.

" **YOU REALLY MEAN HORACE IS SOME KIND OF HERO IN GALLICA?" Will asked incredulously, not totally sure that Halt and Horace weren't pulling off some kind of enormous practical joke. But the grizzled Ranger was nodding his head emphatically.**

"I'm offended, Will! Couldn't you believe that I could be famous?" Horace cried.

Will raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

Horace took one look at Will, then hastily muttered no.

" **A regular figure of respect," he said. Evanlyn turned to the muscular young warrior and leaned forward to touch his hand lightly.**

"Awwwww…."

Evanlyn blushed bright red.

" **I can believe it," she said. "Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?" Her eyes were alight with an unusual warmth and Will, noticing it, felt a sudden stab of jealousy for his old friend. Then he pushed the unworthy thought aside.**

 **Halt had been unwilling to remain too close to the Temujai campsite. There was no telling how far away the main force might be and there was always the possibility that the two men who had escaped might lead others back to the spot.**

"Good idea," Duncan commented, calmer now that his daughter was out of immediate danger.

 **They had retraced the path Halt and Horace had followed, moving back toward the border crossing where they had discovered the first evidence of the Temujai assault. Around the middle of the day, they found a spot on a hilltop with a good view of the surrounding terrain and a saucershaped depression that would keep them hidden from sight. Here, they could see without being seen, and Halt decided to camp there while he made up his mind as to their next move.**

Rodney nodded. It was a strategical move, and he expected nothing less from Halt.

 **They had built a small fire, screened by a grove of young pines, and prepared a meal.**

 **Evanlyn and Will fell ravenously on the savoury stew that the Ranger had prepared and for a while there was silence, broken only by the sound of dedicated eating.**

 **Then the old friends began to catch up on the events that had taken place since the final confrontation with the Wargal army on the Plains of Uthal. Will's jaw had dropped with amazement as Halt described how Horace had defeated the terrifying Lord Morgarath in single combat.**

"Yes, you weren't there for that, were you?" Arald nodded.

Will muttered, "Now I wish I was there, see what Horace can do."

 **Horace looked suitably embarrassed and Halt, sensing this, described the combat in a lighthearted tone, jokingly implying that the boy had stumbled clumsily and fallen under the oncoming hooves of Morgarath's battlehorse, rather than choosing to do so as a deliberate last throw of the dice to unseat his opponent.**

Will looked at Horace in amazement. "Wow, Horace, I didn't know you had it in you!"

Horace blushed, unused to such praise from his best friend.

Gilan laughed, and when everyone turned to him, wondering what was so funny, he continued reading.

 **The apprentice warrior blushed and pointed out that his final ploy—the double knife defense—had been taught to him by Gilan and that he and Will had spent hours practicing the skill on their trip through Celtica. He made it sound as if, somehow, Will deserved some share of the credit for his victory.**

"Typical Horace," Evanlyn said fondly.

"Now I know what Gilan was talking about," whispered Will to Alyss, who nodded.

 **As he spoke, Will leaned back comfortably against a log and thought how much Horace had changed. Once his sworn enemy when they were both growing up as castle wards, Horace had since become his closest friend.**

 **Well, one of his closest friends, he thought, as he felt a shaggy head butt insistently against his shoulder. He twisted around, reaching out one hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them the way the little horse enjoyed. Tug let go a low snuffle of pleasure at the touch of his master's hand. Since they had been reunited, the horse had refused to stray more than a meter or two from Will's presence.**

A few people smiled at the adorable-ness of the scene while Will smiled fondly at the thought of his horse.

 **Halt looked at the two of them now, across the campfire, and smiled inwardly. He felt an enormous sense of relief now that he had finally found his apprentice. A weight of self-blame had lifted from him, for he had suffered greatly in the long months since he had watched the wolfship sailing away from the Araluen coast with Will on board. He felt he had failed the youngster, that he had somehow betrayed him. Now that the boy was safely back in his care, he was filled with a deep sense of well-being. Admittedly, the events of the past day had also left a new worry gnawing at the back of his mind, but for the moment, that could wait while he enjoyed the reunion.**

Duncan frowned in confusion, then realized what Halt was talking about.

Will, remembering what had happened, looked upset.

" **Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" he said with mock severity. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us."**

" **He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it."**

 **At that, Halt raised an eyebrow. "Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated. "And I suppose you did?"**

A round of laughter followed.

 **Horace shrugged. "I'm just a warrior," he replied. "I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I leave that to you Rangers."**

Most of the other warriors in the room nodded, they were used to working closely with the Rangers and knew that their ideas were very good and often helped them win their fights.

" **I must admit it had me puzzled," Halt said. "I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you."**

 **Will continued to rub the shaggy head as it leaned down to him. He smiled broadly around the campsite. Now that Halt was here and he was surrounded by his closest friends, he felt safe and secure once more—a sensation he hadn't enjoyed in over a year.**

Margaret looked sympathetic.

 **He smiled at the Ranger, relieved that Halt had been pleased with his actions. Evanlyn had described their journey across the Stormwhite Sea, and the series of events that had led to their arrival at Hallasholm.**

 **Horace had looked at Will with open admiration as she described the way he had humbled the wolfship captain Slagor in the drafty, smoky cabin on the barren island where they had sheltered from the Stormwhite's worst excesses. Halt had merely studied his apprentice with a keen glance and nodded once.**

Gilan smiled inwardly, knowing how much that meant from Halt.

 **That single movement meant more to Will than volumes of praise from anyone else—particularly since he wasn't terribly proud of the way things had turned out at Hallasholm, and his subsequent addiction to warmweed.**

Alyss shook her head sadly. Will would probably never forgive himself for that.

 **He had been fearful that Halt would disapprove, but when Evanlyn had spoken of her near despair when she had found him in the yard slaves' compound, mindless and unthinking, the Ranger had merely nodded once more and uttered a curse under his breath at people who would inflict such a substance on others. His eyes had met Will's anxious gaze across the fire and Will had seen a deep, deep sadness there.**

" **I'm sorry you had to go through that," his master said softly, and Will knew that everything would be all right.**

Pauline smiled gently at the close relationship between Will and Halt, much like that of a father and son.

 **Eventually, they had talked their fill. There would be details that could be filled in over the coming weeks, and there were items that they had forgotten. But in general terms, they were up to date with one another.**

 **There was, however, one aspect of Halt's story that hadn't been revealed. Neither Will nor Evanlyn had learned of Halt's banishment, or his expulsion from the Ranger Corps.**

Duncan winced, he regretted it, but he had no choice in the matter.

 **As the shadows lengthened, Halt moved once more to the spot where their captive was tied hand and foot. He loosened the bonds for a few minutes, first the hands, then the feet, retying the hands before he released the second set of bonds. The Temujai warrior grunted a brief appreciation of the temporary relief. Halt had already done this several times during the afternoon, ensuring that the man wasn't permanently disabled by the restriction of the flow of blood to his hands and feet.**

Rodney raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the Ranger's consideration, especially since he knew how ruthless the man could be.

 **It also gave him an opportunity to make sure the man's bonds were tight and that he hadn't managed to loosen them or wriggle free.**

Rodney nodded. That made more sense.

 **Knowing he would receive no reply, Halt asked the man for his name and his military unit. Although he spoke the Temujai tongue with reasonable fluency, having spent several years among the People, as they called themselves, he saw no reason to apprise the prisoner of that fact. As a consequence, Halt used the trader's language common to all the people of the Hemisphere—a mélange of Gallic, Teuton and Temujai words in a simple, pidginlanguage structure that took no notice of grammar or syntax.**

Horace snorted. That must really annoy all the intellectual people.

 **As he had expected, the Tem'uj simply ignored his overtures. Halt shrugged and moved away, deep in thought. Horace was sitting by the fireplace, carefully cleaning and oiling his sword. Evanlyn was in the sentry position at the brow of the hilltop, keeping watch over the hillside below them. She would be due to be relieved in another half hour, he thought idly. As Halt paced back and forth, turning over the problem that taxed his mind, he became aware of another presence beside him. He glanced around and smiled to see Will pacing with him, wrapped in the grey mottled Ranger cloak that Halt had carried with him, along with the bow he'd made and a saxe knife.**

Pauline smiled again at the closeness between the two, no wonder Halt had gotten himself banished, and though she knew it had been one of the hardest things that he had done, he would do anything for Will.

 **The double-knife scabbards were a Ranger-issued item of equipment and Halt, expelled from the Corps, had been unable to find one for the boy. As yet, Will hadn't remarked on the fact.**

" **What's the problem, Halt?" the young man asked now.**

 **Halt stopped pacing to face him, his eyebrow arcing in an expression that was familiar to Will.**

" **Problem?" he repeated. Will grinned at him, refusing to be put off, refusing to be diverted. He's grown up a lot in the past year, Halt thought, remembering how that response would once have left the boy confused and disconcerted.**

Will grinned. "No longer do I do that."

Halt scowled at him, thinking he should change his ways if he was getting so easy to predict.

" **When you pace back and forth like a caged tiger, it usually means you're trying to think through a problem of some kind," Will said. Halt pursed his lips thoughtfully.**

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Observant."

" **And I suppose you've seen so many tigers in your time?" he asked. "Caged and otherwise?"**

 **Will's grin widened a little. "And when you try to distract me from my question by asking a question back, I know you're thinking over some problem," he added. Halt finally gave in. He had no idea that his habits had become so easy to interpret. He made a mental note to change things, then wondered if he wasn't getting too old to do so.**

"What's this?" Gilan grinned. "Halt, admitting his age to himself?"

Halt gave Gilan a withering look, but the younger Ranger paid it no heed.

" **Well, yes," he replied. "I must admit I do have something on my mind. Nothing major. Don't let it worry you."**

" **What is it?" said his apprentice bluntly, and Halt cocked his head sideways.**

" **You see," he explained, "when I say 'don't let it worry you,' I mean, there's no real need for us to discuss it."**

" **I know that," said his apprentice. "But what is it anyway?"**

 **Halt drew a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "I seem to remember that I once had much more authority than I seem to have these days," he said to no one in particular.**

Gilan laughed aloud. "SO true. Though he still does to some people, just not his friends."

 **Then, realizing that Will was still waiting expectantly, he relented.**

" **It's these Temujai," he said. "I'd like to know what they're up to." He glanced across their campsite to where the Tem'uj was sitting, securely bound. "And I've got a snowball's chance in a forest fire of finding out from our friend there."**

Crowley grinned. "Nice descriptive language you've got there, Halt. Did you learn it from Pauline?

Halt didn't think that comment important enough to warrant an answer.

 **Will shrugged. "Is it really any of our concern?" he asked. "After all, surely we can leave them and the Skandians to fight it out."**

Crowley looked grim. "If only it were that easy," he muttered.

 **Halt considered this, scratching at his chin with forefinger and thumb. "I take it you're thinking along the lines of the old saying 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" he said. Will shrugged once again. "I wasn't thinking of it in those words exactly," he said. "But it does sum the situation up pretty well, don't you think? If the Skandians are kept busy fighting these Temujai, then they won't be able to bother us with their coastal raids, will they?"**

" **That's true, up to a point," Halt admitted. "But there is another old saying: 'Rather the devil you know.' Have you ever heard that one?"**

"All these sayings, Halt. What brought this mind-set on?" Duncan smiled.

Halt grunted in response.

" **Yes. So you're saying that these Temujai could be a lot more of a problem than the Skandians?"**

" **Oh yes indeed. If they defeat the Skandians, there's nothing to stop them from moving on Teutlandt, Gallica, and finally Araluen."**

" **But they'd have to beat the Skandians first, wouldn't they?" Will said. He knew, from firsthand experience, that the Skandians were fierce, fearless warriors. He could see them forming an effective buffer between the invading Temujai and the other western nations, with both sides ending up severely weakened by the war and neither presenting a threat in the near future. It was a perfect strategic position, he told himself comfortably. Halt's next words made him feel considerably less comfortable.**

" **Oh, they'll defeat them, all right. Make no mistake about that. It will be a savage, bloody war, but the Temujai will win."**

Gilan raised an eyebrow. "On that happy note, who'll read now?" Jenny held out her hand.


	12. Chapter 11

**Hey! I tried to post this chapter yesterday, but there was something wrong with FanFiction and it didn't let me upload it. But here you go!**

 **Chapter 11**

Jenny started reading.

 **AFTER THE EVENING MEAL, HALT CALLED THE SMALL GROUP together.**

 **The wind had risen with the onset of night and it whistled eerily through the branches of the pines. It was a clear night, and the half-moon shone brilliantly above them as they huddled in their cloaks around the remnants of the fire.**

" **Will and I were talking earlier," he told them. "And I've decided that, since our discussion concerns all of us, it's only fair to tell you what I've been thinking."**

 **Horace and Evanlyn exchanged puzzled looks. They had both simply assumed that the master and the apprentice were catching up on lost time together. Now, it appeared, there was something else to consider.**

"There's always something else to consider, isn't there?" Duncan sighed, remembering countless times he had not thought to look past the surface and something disastrous had happened.

" **First and foremost," Halt continued, seeing he had their undivided attention, "my aim is to get you, Will, and the Pr—" He hesitated, stopping before he used Evanlyn's title. They had all agreed that it would be safer for her to continue under her assumed name until they returned home.**

"Smart," Crowley commented. "Then again, when is Halt ever not smart?"

"Never," agreed Will.

 **He corrected himself. "Will and Evanlyn, and Horace, of course, across the border and out of Skandia. As escaped prisoners, you're in considerable danger if the Skandians recapture you. And, as we all know, that danger is even greater for Evanlyn."**

 **The three listeners nodded. Will had told Halt and Horace about the risk to Evanlyn should Ragnak ever discover her real identity as King Duncan's daughter. The Oberjarl had sworn a blood vow to the Vallas, the trio of savage gods who ruled the Skandian religion, in which he promised death to any relative of the Araluen King.**

Duncan looked shocked. "Why would he ever…"

Will cut in. "It was because his son was killed at Thorntree."

"Ah," Duncan nodded. It made sense.

" **On the other hand," Halt said, "I am deeply worried about the presence of the Temujai here on the borders of Skandia. They haven't come this far west in twenty years—and the last time they did, they put the entire western world at risk."**

 **Now he really had their attention, he saw. Horace and Evanlyn sat up straighter and leaned a little closer to him. He saw the puzzled look on the young warrior's face in the firelight.**

" **Surely, Halt, you're exaggerating?" Horace asked.**

Arald snorted. "Halt doesn't exaggerate. Shouldn't you have realized that by now?"

Horace glared at his Baron, for once forgetting about respecting his elders. "At that point, we hadn't known Halt for that long."

Arald shrugged. "You travelled with him for almost a year."

Horace didn't deign to respond.

 **Will looked sideways at his friend. "That's what I thought too," he said quietly, "but apparently not."**

 **Halt shook his head firmly. "I wish I were," he said. "But if the Temujai are moving in force, it's a threat to all our countries, Araluen included."**

" **What happened last time, Halt?" It was Evanlyn who spoke now, her voice uncertain, the concern obvious in it. "Were you there? Did you fight them?"**

" **I fought with them and, eventually, against them," he said flatly. "There were things we wanted to learn from them and I was sent to do so."**

 **Horace frowned. "Such as?" he asked. "What could the Rangers hope to learn from a bunch of wild horsemen?" Horace, it must be admitted, had a somewhat inflated idea of the extent of the Ranger Corps' knowledge. To put it simply, he thought they knew just about everything that was worth knowing.**

Rodney grinned. "It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

Halt shook his head in exasperation. "That kind of blind faith is going to get you killed some day," he muttered.

" **You wanted to learn how they made their bows, didn't you?" said Will suddenly. He remembered seeing the bows carried by the horsemen and thinking how similar they were to his own. Halt looked at him and nodded.**

" **That was part of it. But there was something more important. I was sent to trade with them for some of their stallions and mares. The Ranger horses we ride today were originally bred from the Temujai herds," he explained. "We found their recurve bows interesting, but when you consider how difficult and time-consuming they are to make, they offered no significant improvement in performance over the longbow. But the horses were a different matter."**

Will smiled softly. "Of course they were! I don't know what the Rangers would do without their horses."

The others nodded, remembering the strong bond between the Rangers and their horses as well as their skill set.

" **And they were happy to trade?" asked Will. As he spoke, he turned to study the shaggy little horse standing a few paces behind him. Tug, seeing him turn to look, nickered a soft greeting. Now that Halt mentioned it, there was a distinct resemblance to the horses he had seen in the Temujai camp.**

" **They were not!" Halt replied with a heartfelt shake of the head. "They guarded their breeding stock jealously. I'm probably still wanted among the Temujai nation as a horse thief."**

The room burst out laughing.

"Halt, you're supposed to be enforcing the law, not breaking it!" Duncan laughed.

" **You stole them?" Horace asked, in a mildly disapproving tone.**

 **Halt hid a smile as he replied.**

" **I left what I considered a fair price," he told them. "The Temujai had other ideas about the matter. They weren't keen to sell at any price."**

" **Anyway," Will said impatiently, dismissing the matter of whether the horses had been bought or stolen, "what happened when their army invaded? How far did they come?"**

 **Halt stirred the small pile of embers between them with the end of a charred stick until a few tongues of flame flickered in the red coals. "They were heading farther south that time," he said. "They overran the Ursali nation and the Middle Kingdoms in no time at all.**

Those who did not know this already looked shocked.

 **There was no stopping them. They were the ultimate warriors—fast moving, incredibly brave, but most of all, highly disciplined. They fought as a large unit, always, whereas the armies facing them almost always ended up fighting in small groups of perhaps a dozen at a time."**

David nodded. "Unity is strength. That reminds me of a saying, 'united we stand, divided we fall.' I think that's a very good description of those scenarios."

" **How could they do that?" Evanlyn asked. She had been around her father's armies enough to know that the biggest problem facing any commander once battle started was staying in effective control and maintaining communication with the troops under him. Halt looked at her, sensing the professional interest behind her question.**

" **They've developed a signalling system that lets their central commander direct all his troops in concerted manoeuvres," he told her. "It's a very complex system relying on coloured flags in different combinations. They can even operate at night," he added. "They simply substitute coloured lanterns for the flags. Quite frankly, there was no army capable of stopping them as they drove on toward the sea.**

"I can imagine," Rodney said, horrified at the destructive potential of the force.

" **They'd cut through the northeast corner of Teutlandt, then on through Gallica. Every army that faced them, they defeated. Their superior tactics and discipline made them unbeatable. They were only three days' riding from the Gallican coast when they finally stopped."**

The people in the room were shocked.

" **What stopped them?" Will asked. A noticeable chill had fallen over the three young listeners as Halt had described the inexorable advance of the Temujai army. At the question, the Ranger gave a short laugh.**

" **Politics," he said. "And a dish of bad freshwater clams."**

Sandra frowned. "How could a dish of clams stop an army that powerful?"

" **Politics?" Horace snorted in disgust. As a warrior, he had a healthy contempt for politics and politicians.**

Rodney grinned. "We taught you well," he smiled.

Duncan sighed, "I wish I hadn't had to learn about politics, they were the bane of my life, along with paperwork."

Crowley nodded his heartfelt assent.

" **That's right. This was when Mat'lik was the Sha'shan, or supreme leader. Now, among people like the Temujai, that's a highly unstable position. It's taken by the strongest contender and very few Sha'shans have died in their beds. Although Mat'lik did, as it turned out," he added as an afterthought, before continuing.**

Will snorted. Since he already knew the story, he knew that while Mat'lik did die in his bed, it wasn't a peaceful death as the phrase implied.

" **As a result, it's normal practice for anyone who might contest the position to be assigned tasks that keep them a long way from home. In this case, Mat'lik's brother, nephew and second cousin were the most likely candidates, so he made sure they were kept busy with the army. That way, not only could they not get up to mischief around him, but they could all keep an eye on one another as well. Naturally, they distrusted each other totally."**

"Naturally," Horace commented.

" **Wasn't it dangerous to give them control over the army?" Will asked. Halt signified that the question was a good one.**

" **Normally, it might be. But the command structure was designed so that none of them had absolute control. Mat'lik's brother Twu'lik was the strategic commander. But his nephew was the paymaster and his cousin was the quartermaster. So, one led them, one fed them and one paid them. They all had pretty equal claims on the loyalty of the soldiers. That way, they could keep one another in check."**

"Pretty smart, if you think about it," David nodded.

" **So where did the clams come in?" Horace asked. Food was always a matter of interest to him.**

Will grinned. "Typical."

 **Halt resettled himself by the fire, leaning back against a log.**

" **Mat'lik was partial to freshwater clams," he told them.**

" **So much so that he very unwisely had his wife prepare him a big dish when they were out of season. It seems that some of them were tainted and he was taken by a terrible fit while eating. He screamed, tore at his throat, fell down and went into a deep coma. It was obvious that he was very close to death.**

"And now we know what that means for the Temujai," Duncan commented.

" **Naturally, when news reached the army, the three main contenders for the top job couldn't get back to the Sha'shan's court fast enough. The succession would be decided by an election among the senior Shans and they knew if they weren't back there to hand out the bribes and buy votes, someone else would get the prize."**

Duncan raised an eyebrow, a skill he had learned from being around Rangers so much. "Sounds like a very corrupt country."

Halt nodded. "It is," he replied.

"Although you have to admit they are excellent soldiers, and they are very organized," Will cut in, having experienced first-hand the superior fighting skills of the Temujai.

All those who had fought them nodded their agreement, they were one of the finest armies in the world.

" **So they simply abandoned the invasion?" Will asked. "After they'd come so far?"**

 **Halt made a dismissive gesture. "They were a pragmatic bunch," he said. "Gallica wasn't going to go away. They'd fought their way through there once, they could always do it again. But there was only going to be one chance to get the top job."**

" **So the western hemisphere was saved by a dish of bad clams?" Evanlyn said. The grizzled Ranger smiled grimly.**

" **It's surprising how often history is decided by something as trivial as bad shellfish," he told her.**

Crowley nodded in assent.

" **Where were you while this was all going on, Halt?" Will asked his master.**

 **Halt smiled again at the memory. "I suppose it's one of those moments you never forget," he said. "I was hightailing it for the coast, with a small herd of…" He hesitated, glancing sidelong at Horace. "…fairly purchased horses,**

Crowley snorted. "That's when you know Halt has been doing something he shouldn't be doing."

 **and a Temujai fighting patrol was right behind me. They were gaining on me too. Suddenly, one morning, they reined in and watched me gallop away. Then they simply turned around and started trotting back east—all the way to their homeland."**

"How interesting," Pauline said.

 **There was a brief silence as he finished the tale. Halt could have wagered that it would be Will who would come up with the next question, and he was not disappointed.**

" **So who became the Sha'shan?" he asked. "The brother, the nephew or the cousin?"**

" **None of them," Halt replied. "The election went to a dark horse candidate who had designs on the countries to the east of the Temujai homelands. The other three were executed for abandoning their mission in the west." He stirred the fire again, thinking back to that well-remembered day when the pursuing riders had suddenly given up the chase and left him to escape.**

" **And now they're back again," he said thoughtfully.**

"Yes," Duncan nodded. "Then they were back again."

Jenny passed the book to Margaret.


	13. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone, sorry for taking such a long time with this chapter. It has been a really busy year in school and it was hard to find time to update. So here is chapter 12, the long awaited meeting between Halt and Erak.**

 **Chapter 12**

Margaret began in an even tone.

 **THEY BROKE CAMP EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING AND started down toward the pass that would take them across the border once more. Horace had offered Evanlyn the black battlehorse that had belonged to Deparnieux. When she had protested that this was a far superior animal to the bay he rode, he smiled shyly.**

Will made a mental note to tease Horace about it later. Right now, in the presence of Evanlyn's father, he didn't dare to.

" **Maybe so. But I'm used to Kicker. He knows my ways." And that was the end of the matter. The prisoner rode one of the horses they had taken from the Temujai camp. A second was carrying the packs and supplies that, up until now, had been carried by Tug. Naturally, the little Ranger horse was now the proud bearer of his long-lost master.**

"Naturally," Halt commented.

 **As they came closer to the treeline at the bottom of the hill, Tug showed his happiness once more, tossing his head and whinnying. Halt turned in the saddle and smiled.**

" **I'm glad he's happy," he said. "But I do hope he's not planning on keeping that up all the way home."**

"That would be annoying, wouldn't it?" Sandra asked.

 **Will grinned in reply and leaned forward to pat the little horse's shaggy neck.**

" **He'll settle down soon enough," he said. At the touch, Tug danced a few paces and tossed his head again. Surprisingly, Abelard copied the actions.**

" **Now he's got my horse doing it too," Halt said, more than a little surprised. He calmed Abelard with a quiet word, then turned to Will again. "You seem to be popular among the horses of this world, anyway. I thought…" His voice trailed away and he didn't finish the sentence. Will saw his body stiffen to attention and the grey-cloaked Ranger twisted in his saddle, peering into the trees, which were now close on either side.**

"Trouble follows you lot everywhere," Crowley groaned.

Will grinned back at him. "Well, at least it keeps life interesting!"

" **[Dang it]!" he muttered quietly.**

"Halt! You just said a bad word!" Will looked delighted to be able to call Halt out on his mistake.

Halt looked as unruffled as ever.

 **He turned to Horace and Evanlyn, riding behind them and leading the prisoner's horse, but before he could speak, there was a scuffle of movement in the trees and a party of armed warriors stepped out into the open behind them, blocking their retreat.**

 **Halt swung quickly to the front once more, as a second group emerged from the trees, fanning out to the sides and moving to cut them off in all directions.**

" **Skandians!" exclaimed Will, as he recognized the horned helmets and round wooden shields carried by the silent warriors.**

David raised an eyebrow. "I would never have pegged Skandians as the ambush type."

 **Halt's shoulder slumped in a gesture of disgust with himself.**

" **Yes. The horses have been trying to warn us, only I didn't realize it."**

"I didn't realize it either," Will pointed out.

"You were an apprentice then."

 **A burly figure, wearing an enormous horned helmet and with a double-bladed battle-ax laid negligently over his right shoulder, stepped forward. Behind them, Halt heard the sinister whisper of steel on leather as Horace drew his sword. Without turning, he said:**

" **Put it away, Horace. I think there are too many of them, even for you."**

 **As Horace had moved, the huge ax had risen instantly to the ready position. The Skandian wielded it as if it were a toy. Now he spoke, and Will started at the familiar voice.**

" **I think we'll have you down from those horses, if you don't mind."**

Will grinned. "Erak's here."

 **Unable to stop himself, Will blurted out: "Erak!" and the man took a pace closer, peering at the second cloaked figure in front of him. The cowl had obscured Will's face so that the jarl hadn't recognized him. Now he could make out the boy's features and he frowned as he realized that there was something familiar about another of the riders. He hadn't recognized Evanlyn, swathed in a cloak against the cold. Now, however, he was sure that it must be she. He cursed quietly under his breath, then recovered.**

"Thank goodness he recovers quickly."

"Yes, if not for that, we probably wouldn't be here now," murmured Halt.

" **Down!" he commanded. "All of you."**

 **He motioned the circle of men back as the four riders dismounted. The fifth, he noticed with some interest, was tied to his horse and couldn't comply. He gestured for two of his men to get the prisoner down from his saddle.**

 **Halt threw back the hood on his cloak and Erak studied the grim, bearded face. Now that he was dismounted, the man looked surprisingly small, particularly measured against Erak's own burly form. Will went to throw back his own cowl, but Erak stopped him with a hand gesture.**

"Smart," Duncan said softly.

" **Leave it for the moment," he said in a lowered voice. He didn't know how many of his men might recognize the former slave who had escaped from Hallasholm months ago, but for now, something told him that the fewer who made the connection, the better it would be.**

"Good instincts. And at least he knows to trust them," Gilan commented.

 **He looked warningly at Evanlyn.**

" **You too," he ordered, and she inclined her head in agreement. Erak turned his gaze back to Halt.**

" **I've seen you before," he said. Halt nodded.**

" **If you're Jarl Erak, we saw each other briefly on the beach by the fens," he said, and recognition dawned in the jarl's eyes. It wasn't the man's face that had struck a chord of memory, rather his bearing—the way he held himself and the massive longbow that he carried still. Halt continued: "There was quite a distance between us, as I recall."**

"Yes, yes there was," Halt sounded like he was lost in memory. Wisely, no one commented on that.

 **Erak grunted. "I seem to remember that we were well within bowshot," he said. Halt nodded, acknowledging the point. The Skandian's face darkened with anger as he looked once more at the bow and the quiver of arrows slung at Halt's belt.**

" **And now you've been up to the same foul business," he said. "Although what these two have to do with it is beyond me." He added the last in a puzzled tone, jerking a thumb at Will and Evanlyn.**

Rodney looked puzzled. "What foul business?"

 **Now it was Halt's turn to look puzzled. "What foul business?"**

The room laughed.

 **Erak gave a disgusted snort. "I've seen you with that bow, remember? I know what you can do. And I've just seen more of your handiwork at Serpent Pass."**

Eyes widened in understanding.

 **Understanding dawned on Halt. He remembered the forlorn sight of the bodies at the small fort on the border. That must be the pass this Skandian was referring to. Since the garrison had been killed by archers and Erak knew Halt's skill with a bow, he had jumped to a rapid, if not too logical, conclusion.**

"Skandians are known for that."

"For what?"

"For coming to conclusions which are not too logical."

" **Not our work," he said, shaking his head. Erak stepped closer to him.**

" **No? I saw them there. All shot. And we followed your tracks from there."**

" **So you may have," Halt said calmly, "but if you're any sort of tracker, you'd know that there were only two of us. We found the garrison at the pass dead. And we followed the tracks of a larger party—the ones who killed them."**

Will grinned. "I'll never know how Halt remains so calm, and how he can build such an effective argument so quickly."

 **Erak hesitated. He wasn't a tracker. He was a sea captain. But one of the men who had come with him was an occasional hunter. While he didn't have the uncanny skills that the Rangers had developed in interpreting tracks, Erak now remembered that his man had said something about the possibility of there being two groups.**

" **Then," he said, bewildered by this turn of events, "if you didn't do it, who did?"**

 **Halt jerked a thumb at the bound prisoner. "Him—and his friends," he said. "He was in a Temujai scouting party we ran into yesterday. There was a larger band who attacked the border garrison, then six of them came on into Skandia."**

"Then what happened to the larger group?" David asked himself.

" **Temujai, you say?" Erak asked him. He knew of the warlike people from the east, of course, but it had been decades since they had come this way in any numbers.**

" **We killed a couple of them," Halt told him. "Two got away and we captured this one."**

 **Erak stepped to where the prisoner stood, hands tied in front of him, glaring fiercely at the big northerners who surrounded him. He studied the flat-featured, brown-skinned face and the furs the man wore.**

" **He's a Tem'uj, all right…but what were they doing here?" he asked, almost to himself.**

" **That's the question I was asking," Halt replied.**

 **Erak glanced at him with a flash of anger. He hated being confused. He preferred a simple, straightforward problem—the kind he could solve with his broadax.**

Horace grinned. "Finally, a kindred spirit!"  
 **"For that matter," he snapped, "what are you doing here?"**

 **Halt faced him evenly, uncowed. "I came for the boy," he said quietly. Erak looked at him, then at the smaller figure beside him, his face still largely concealed by the grey mottled hood. His anger faded as quickly as it had flared.**

" **Yes," he said, in a calmer tone. "He said you would."**

Alyss smiled slightly at the closeness of the two Rangers, and the confidence they had in each other.

 **Like most Skandians, Erak valued loyalty and courage. Another thought struck him— something he'd wondered about for some time.**

" **At the beach," he said. "How did you know to find us there?"**

" **You left one of your men behind," Halt said. "He told me."**

 **The disbelief was plain on Erak's face.**

" **Nordal? He'd have spat in your eye before he told you anything."**

" **I think he thought he owed me," Halt said quietly. "He was dying and he'd lost his sword, so I gave it back to him."**

Duncan closed his eyes at the thought of the death that day.

 **Erak went to speak, then hesitated. Skandians believed that if a man died without a weapon in his hand, his soul was lost forever. It seemed the Ranger knew about the belief.**

Arald agreed. "Of course he does, he's Halt!"

" **Then I'm in your debt," he said finally. Then, after another pause: "I'm not sure how that affects this current situation, however." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully, looking at the fierce little Temujai warrior, for all the world like a tethered hawk. "And I'd still like to know what this lad and his bunch are up to."**

Horace grinned. "One track mind."

" **That's what I had in mind," Halt told him. "I was planning to get my companions here across the border into Teutlandt. Then I thought I might come back with our friend here and find the rest of the Temujai—and see how many of them there are."**

 **Erak snorted. "You think he'll tell you?" he asked. "I don't know too much about the Temujai, but I know this much: you can torture them to death and they'll never tell you anything they don't want to."**

"That's impressive," Margaret stated.

" **Yes. I've heard that too," Halt said. "But there might be a way."**

" **Oh, might there?" the jarl asked scornfully. "And what might 'that way' be?"**

 **Halt glanced at the horse warrior. He was following their discussion with some interest. Halt knew he spoke the trading language but he had no idea how much of the common tongue he might understand. As a member of a scouting party, it was probable that he had some command of the language. He took the jarl's arm and led him a few paces away, out of earshot.**

" **I rather thought I might let him escape," he said mildly.**

Arald laughed. "Looks like Halt has finally picked up some humour!"

Will looked at the Baron. "Actually, it was a really good plan."

Arald looked shocked that such a plan could actually work, but soon he realized that it was Halt, and that was enough reason for the impossible to become possible.

Alyss retrieved the book from Margaret.


End file.
